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Full text of "Omni Magazine (September 1987)"

m 1987 




VOL. 9 NO. 12 







The Future of I he 

Alan M. Dershowitz 









Readers and Censorship ■ 



Encyclopedic Network 

Steve Ditlea 



The Ulysses Project 

Doug Stewart 



The Problem with Olives 

Joni K. Miller 



High-lech Scribes 

Elizabeth Stone 



Physicists and 
Superconductivity, etc. 



Rosalie Berlell, Peter 
Raven, Ervin Las/lo, 
Virginia Walbol, Amory 
and Hunler Lovins 

Bill Lawren 




Thomas M. Disch 



Pictorial: Forever Blowing 

Scot Morris 



Rsdel rung Death 

Kathleen Slein 




Lucius Shepard 



Pictorial: The Art of Pierre 

Thomas M. Disch 



Interview: Sporls 
Psychology and Success 

Mark "eich and Pamela 



UFOs and the Navy's 
Avengers, etc. 



The 1987 Consumer 
Electronics Show 

Marjorie Costello 


The Worlds Hardest Which- 
Is-Which Quiz, plus The 
Carre Preserve 

imagine an existence without 

consciousness, lacking 

ail .sensory awareness. Conjure 

up a sense o! the 

iwii/qln area between life and 

death, totally dependent 

on medical technology, it's a 

world artist Tim White 

lias contemplated tor our cover 





■ By Alan M Dershowitz 

■•It wilt take a -broad- ." 
based commitment, to. liberty 

. to weather the 
approaching constitutional . 
storm. We will survive 
these challenges only If we 
stick together as a 
nation proud of our legacy* 

no by 

t ; n& ■: , ■■■■ 

aril cvko ; digp 
ich fell 

with acicaroi ■ > ■.■■■.■.:■ :■ i ■, u.u. ■■ . 

rolo ' i the worre. Wo must also sot a 
course for the future that will continue to 
uphold the basic premise cf our Convolu- 
tion- liberty and justice lor all. 

Many naysayt;rs throng hour history 
have af.oinotcd f o saootage the reture o- 
,i. ii ■ :i ,. 'i i.v ,-, i ■ ■ :i= ■■. i . ■ .j ■!'■ ;, i ■ 
'ragrhtv of nor oasrc doctrine the Consli- 
ution however, has successfully 
,'jrvivei.i those laise predio;lor:s 

Oar Constitution has also met strong 
iopooiticn Ircm a number o: more rea-stic 
issaults. "fnese attacks threatened our 
Id to the fundamental design 
bveui Fouodno -arbors 
■ durlno the Civil War President 
dto.susp.endlhe wntoi 
:us— the primary. legal vehicle 
enforcing many of Ihe nrotechons 
rlaineci in ihe bodv of the Constitut on. 
'ing World-War II. i 10.000 Japanese 
oi .cans Acs stripped oi ; hoi r most 
sic right o : "reedom when they -vera 
odeo uo ano confined in con cent rat I on 
ops IvlGCarlhyisrn. whoh savag, d 
beedomr sneoeo anc association 
rear v a oocaoo was vet anotho; 

those U 


;i :o a 


face some of is most butertests in the 
years :o com,- Even though Ihe booy 

i.i ■ . ■■ i:-hli ■ ■ .■ hi ■ ■ ■■■! ■:! 

*re those 
ana- oncos who :v intact to celebrate 
:he two iiu'idreoih anniversary ot Ihe B;;l 
? ,f p^cl-'s— the : :rs: rer; amendments ro 
: ,he Consttuiion enacted In 1/9 1 Aithouan 
it-rev are called amendments, ihe Bill oi 
lights is an oigamc pari ot vie orignal 
uccuurei-: Without them pre Coaslliul.on 
Areuic no; have been ratified By llsei; 
.ho Constitution coated a sbuolure 
ro- centralized power without sullioien! 
assurances of liberty, the Bin o : Rights 

i.-:ve us a strong government wthout 'Ire 
;>ower to con; i v'wrreai on-; other- 
wise curtail the nobis or its ct.zens. 

I h.s vary moment our Constitution and 
:s Bill of Rights may oe threatened by 
u ■ ■ ■: serious ■ i. in. n ■ tney nave eve' 

■ i ■■■■:. 'i : |'. ■ Mr i,. ■ ■/. ,| .■ \- - ,- . 


■ ve pel 

ing or a group o! hu 

t: Aibc 

nd mo 

s generated I ho pens posed aga n 
our liberty are much greater than "hey 
were during. some <.v. our past crises, 
a'I ; i wo'! i. i ' i Hi d by ■ ii alone .. : 

wiipoed i..|: ov op: ■ ■ n 

in lire case of Ai r iS however, both the 
vtus ami the 'ear are rear arc; fears oa= 
upon Ieckniale threats are a far grea's 
risk to our survival.' . 

The tear of AIDS contains all the 

elr ■■.■!' i. ■ i ".■..;■ /-■:::■ - 1 i.- 1< i I 

libOKies disaster A! preset the pere»'.f 

r > 




ave a prescription for 
nyottheworsbkind. --' ; 
,\ havedittie r.ontidencc -r. rnosi ol our 

ioadors when ■ ■.. :■■ mi" i ■.■■.•■ m: air 

issue as emotionally iaoen as AIDS. I 
have somewnal more con; nonce in :he 
decency ol the Amor can Dubk/u But their ' 
decency wo bo sorely lestod i! AIDS 
spreads more pervasively through the 
heterosexual, non-drug-usng co^muni- 

I!' 1 ' :■■.! i ;V U.I I .■;..■ II II ' 

insurance policy wo call our Conslitulioru 

I also suspoci mat in the next decade :.:■!■■ 
we will :;;■: ecu nter other technological, "■■■■ . 
bioicoicai. and ecological diem-mas that 
tne framers of our ConstMut.on could never 
have anticipated. Consider, -or instance, . : 
govei rental nimsion on toe pnvaoy 
ol individuals. The rramers were oeeply 

eon emoca tins Isso ■ 'O.l .red 

that concern in. the Fourth Amendment;-. ;=;'.' 
w'uon cua-acrees foal ;ue ■ ■ -no 
!■■■■. ■ ; ■ . ui in lb' ■! i ■ ■ I 1 :; 
houses papers, arid chests suar : not be 
unreasonably restricted, inc. oad expeh/P ■. 
enceo intrus ve governnrenre. searches,", 
eavesdropping, and sfi-ylng so rrey 
wrore r : i oonsM.niona: amejixuner-:! capable- ; - 

v;f; i 

vi:h ; 




of-:i-ie-ait rrurusioris ■wiretapping, ■' 

uri/ed bugs, salollrto InierceptionE,. 



,:e; .v;i liies ;i ;s clear that-.; : 


fid n 

jl inieno the Constbut on to 

be co 

jsoiotowiib every chancre in 



i "hey endowed us wuo 



-ial polices and :-uv; r.-ige- 



ariaol 1 II uv nre-.-oaco -.mangris 
lav wo cannot bee:" ro predict 


■u to 



-seionlllc discoveries that 

awa ; 

the third ceniurv of our consti- 


il l;;i- 

ory. The ever-oT-anging lines 

00! w 

jon ! 

;e human and the nonhuman. 



io oocsiciify otaien lire, will 



i! :-i ' !,■'■■.■. !' . II 



n The world we live in oarely 



Ihe one in whioti our -oundino 


■■■■; , ■ 

idod. and the world for worlds' 
hriOron will mhabit may bear 

■ Me 


olancerecurown Ye; our 



n must be capable./ adapting 

to an 


erning all these worlds. 

■■■:'! i V 

1:1 la 

e a broari-oasoc corm-itment 

to lib 

-rty t 

■ ,.v atnei \s ; oorc i rhing 

cna rence 

ial store- We wrll survive Ihesc 
ony a we si ok tooeineras a 

- pre 

re o- our legacy. If we -ako 
'ith cur Consti'utlon icacf we 
-r-suvoiluug to ocicbrato.OO 



The dogmas of ihe quiet past are 
inadequate to the stormy 
present." Abraham Lincoln said 
in 1862. Today, as ".cchnolccy reshapes 
our society, we must wrestle with ethical 
cuest. cms and issues that will affect 
life in the twenty-first century. The future, 
after all. may offer cxc r nc possibilities, but 
it also entails even create:' ■esoonsibility. 

One such ethical dilemma, reports 
"Omni staff writer Kathleen Stein in "Last 
Rights" (page 58), is the matter of death 
and dying. As bioethicists, philosophers, 
and physicians attempt to redefine 
death, however, they are confronting Ihe 
basic question ol what it means to be 
alive. "Even doctors find it emotionally 
difficult coming to terms with the finality of 
death," Stein says. "I remember my falher 
coming home afler a patient had died 
on the operating table. For him, as for 
others, it represented a personal defeat." 

Most people are confused about the 
twilight area between life and death — the 
vegetative state and coma, for example. 
Many people thought Karen Ann Quinlan— 
lying in her bed. in a fetal position, and 
seemingly asleep — was brain dead. She 
wasn't. She was in a persistent vegetative 
stale and lacked all sensory awareness.' 
Was she alive? Some argue that such . 
patients should be declared legally dead. 
Others vehemently oppose that idea, 
Their debate-raises questions that must 
be considered and resolved; Will there be 
a proliferation of organ harvesting and 
the creation of a death industry? Given the 

economic incentive, people might sell 
their organs, to be transplanted at the time 
of their own death. How would (hat affect 
their later medical care? And will only 
the rich benefit? 

Scientists arc a. so loo< ng ai the 
challenge tecnnc ogy poses to life on 
Earth and ney rire tak ng ac:ion (hey 
consider necessary to protect our planet. 
In "Six Scientists Who May Save the 
World" (page 36), contributor Bill Lawren 
profiles dedicated crusaders who repre- 
sent the legions of scientists trying to 
ensure there is, indeed, a future. Plant 
biologist Virg'nia VValbot, tor example, may 
have paved the way for the creation of 
a genetic I brary c : custom- designed 
superplants to feed the world. Biometrician 
Rosalie Bertell is campaigning against 
-.oxic waste. And boiarisl Rotor Raven 
concentres or preserving ine great 
equatorial forests i.nai cc~i prise a third of 
Earth's plants and animals. "These 
leaders accent responsible progress," 
Lawren says. 

In other areas, scientists are trying to 
enhance human physical performance. For 
30 years Bruce Ogilvie has worked with 
Olympic competitors, football quarter- 
backs, and other athletes, helping them 
to achieve their persona, bests. In an 
Interview with the founder of sports 
psycno ogy (cage 80). Gmm senior editor 
Pamela Weintraub and Mark Teich, 
former senior editor at Health magazine, 
explore the mental requirements for 
success. Og Ivio passion a; cly describes 

ancient techniques for concentration, Ihe 
body-aware'ness methods developed 
by sex therapists, and behavioral modifi- 
caton through, self-talk and attention 
focusing. Weintraub and Teich first 
discovered Ogilvie's work while research- 
ing fheir upcoming book on sports 
science. The Hot-wired Athlete: A Journey 
to the Frontiers ol Human Performance 
(Doubleday, 1988). 

In this month's fiction, writer Lucius 
Shepard returns to the setting of a future 
Central America that has characterized 
much of his highly praised work. A narrative 
poem, "Pictures Made of Stones" (page 
68), is his first s:o- y to appear n Omni. The 
Science Fiction Writers of America 
recently awarded Shepard a Nebula for 
his novela R &R. included in Jaguar 
Hunter, a collection of his short stories 
(Arkham House). And author Thomas M. 
Disch conjures up a light, metaphysical 
tale in "Palindrome" (page 42). He wrote 
The Brave Little Toaster (Doubleday), 
which will soon be released as a full-length 
feature cartoon, "and Amnesia (Electronic 
Arts), a computer-interactive novel. 

Disch also provides the fictional account 
of off-world convicts ( Bngazoon," page 
74) accompanying fee fenas-ical art 
of Pierre LaCornbe. And Omni Games 
editor Scot Morris bursts some bubble 
myths in the pictorial "Splish Splash" 
(page 48). With a little applied physics, 
he notes, scientists have demystified 
the fragile, spherical objects, revealing 
the wonderful economy of nature.DO 



Splitting Hairs 

Many ol your issues over the past two 
years have featured bald women on the 
cover. Whether the pictures are stylized, 
angular, or with a softer shape, the heads 
are all women, and all the women are 
bald. Why women? Why bald? 

I must admil I hate these bald-women 
covers. Do you think a bald woman looks 
futuristic? I protest. While no one can 
predict future styles, I can assure you that 
mos! women will not be bald. 

Janis Nelson 
Lawrence, KS 

A Global Accounting 
Peace Corps director Lore! Miller Ruppe 
deserves recognition for her compelling 
invitation to join ir the challenge to end 
world hunger [First Word, June 1987]. What 
should be recognized is the conspicuous 
absence of any menlion ol birth control 
as a determining factor. 

Hunger and starvation are both the 
cause and symptom of overpopulation. 
Famine-relief efforts must address this fact 
it popular support is to be maintained. 

M. Nelson, D.C. 
FarRockaway, NY 

Thanks for the inspiring and sorely needed 
message Irom Ruppe on ending hunger 
and disease in the world, a dream that 
can become a reality if enough of us 
make the coir—tment Russell Schweikar!, 
Apollo 9 astronaut, aptly said, "We're not 
passengers on Spaceship Earth; we're 
the crew. We're not just residonts on 
this planet; we're citizens. The difference 
in both cases is responsibility." 

If you want to help end world hunger, 
write to Results. 246 Second Street NE, 
Washington, DC 20002. 

Stephen Valk 

Simply Red 

The. article "UNK; The Accelerator that 
Coufdn't Shoot Straight" [June 1987] 
follows a persistent pattern of anti-Soviet 
articles and fiction. Such an article mars 
your image as open-minded examiners. 
The educational value of the piece — 

and it does have interesting things to 
say — is more than neutralized by the 
authors' need to demonstrate the superi- 
ority of the United States. Scientific 
research and advancement are presented 
as a race. Who will get there first? Who 
will make the great discoveries? God 
forbid that those Communists across the 
ocean might uncover something impor- 
tant. It could prove that contrary to the 
dominant theme of the Reagan adminis- 
tration and much of the media, ihe Soviets 
are interested in something besides 
conquering the world. 

Steven Feuerstein 

Cuticle Dreamer 

Since the summer of 1982 I've worn a 
beard thai has ranged in length from 
stubble to tour or five inches. Up until I 
read about the "Giant Hair Ball" [Antimatter, 
June 1987], I frequently chewed on the 
end of it to help relieve nervous tension. I 
think I'll star! biting my nails instead. 

Stan Johnston 
Yazoo City, MS 


My favorite example of "Physics, Holly- 
wood Style" [Continuum, June 1987] was 
The Six Million Dollar Man. Steve Austin 
would throw 100-pound objects 20 yards 
at his assailants, a stress that would 
have torn the powerful artificial arm from 
the glenoid cavity of the scapula. He 
would also dead-lift several-ton objects 
such as ears, which would have resulted 
in compression fractures of his quite- 
human spine. 

Robert I. Prince, M.D. 
Gainesville, FL 

Divining Rods 

The first iwo stories on God and religion 
["The Visitation and Other Divine Encoun- 
ters," June 1987] were incredible. But I 
am tired of male characters who "piss" and 
"splash urinals." Both terms are overused 
in Irashy fiction and are filter for writers 
who can't write any better. 

Jason J. Marchi 
Guilford, CTDO 


Eo back in time about six-months, 
to the day in February when 
you received or purchased our 
issue on "Science and Censorship." 
Do you remember? Ray Bradbury, Norman 
Lear, Stephen King, Harlan Ellison — 
among others — spoke out against scien- 
tific illiteracy and censoring books. 
Kalhleen Stein wrote a loarure ("Censoring 
Science") describing the court battles 
in the South between creationists and 
evolutionists. Do you recall the postcard 
we asked you to iign objecting to censor- 
ship in any form? Odds are, if you're 
recalling the issue, your blood pressure's 
on the rise, and you've wondered why 
we've been so silent in the ensuing months. 

September 1987 marks the two 
hundredth anniversary of the signing oi 
the Constitution, the great document that 
protects our civil liberties. The recent 
battles between creationists and evolu- 
tionists have landed in the courts, to 
be adjudicatec by the sla-icards that guide 
our democracy. September's Forum 
reminds us that we are free to believe 
and worship as we choose and free 
to speak our minds without reprisal. 

But hot everyone is convinced: "Possibly 
the worst thing you can do is send the 
President a ready-made list of names and 
addresses with which to assemble a 
McCarthy-esque file for some fulure use," 
one reader noted. He was not the only 
skeptic. "How naive are you?" asked one 
reader. "Do you really believe sending 
postcards to the White House protesting 
censorship wit make any difference?" 

Apparently his was a lone voice in the 
wilderness — 37,300 people signed and 
sent back their cards. A fraction of 
respondents -100 — weren't pleased and 
returned cards shredded, burned around 
the edges, or heavily edited with notes 
in the margins (nq way; bullshit; god 


become you). "Although I have nothing 
to do with the creaiionisrs. I think your card 
is ridiculous, childish, biased, and extrem- 
ist," said one reader. 

Many people sent their cards in sealed 
envelopes. 'As you can see, the postage 

12 OMNI 

stamp was torn off 'ry postcard and then 
returned to me : said one reader. "I can't 
believe people in my local area feel so 
strongly about this issue." Another wrote, 
"I may be experiencing a case of 
temporary paranoia — in afree country — 
but I feel safer sending you a signed 
card inside an envelope." 

Some readers didn'l receive cards in 
ihek magazines. "Why didn't I get a 
card to sign? Someone removed mine. 
The stub from the card was stil between 
pages 48 and 49." A Canadian reader 
wrote, "My card was obviously taken and 
not 'us- left out as the staples in the 
nagaz ne were bent out and bent back." 

Cards arrived signed by two, three, 
or five people and from families and small 
groups, including a club al one college. 
Readers called or wrote requesting more 
cards to pass acne to their friends. "I 
felt so moved that I actually went to the 
printer and had ten more cards printed up 
to pass along to friends," wrote one 
woman. Another man asked lor 40 cards 
to pass out. 

But people didn't send just cards. More 

■p.- Our readers couior; i ne w'er.ced. 

than 450 readers wrote us: notes; letters; 
epistles; and long dissertat ens, including 
a 14-page paper, complete with footnotes 
and bibliography. Pamphlets and Chris- 
tian comic strips arrived wilh titles such 
as "What to Do in Case You Miss tine 
Rapture." The "Bible Thumper" sent a 
tract — entitled "Big Daddy?" — with a 
picture of an ape eating a banana. 
Theories on how to reconcile science and 
religion were propounded with extensive 
portions of "ho Bible photocopied or 
carefully written out by hand. 

For weeks the bulging mailbags kept 
coming in, with letters from England, 
Scotland. Norway. Italy, New Zealand, 
Holland, Australia, Canada, and all over 
the United States. All ages and all profes- 
sions were represented: grammar-school 
children, high-school kids, college 
students, lawyers, housewives, librarians, 
teachers, engineers, decors, scientists, 
and ministers from mainline denominations 
and independent churches. Jew, Catho- 
lic, Protestant — all had something to say. 

And the "sayin' " was "hot"— right 
out of Archie Bunker's mouth, vehemently 
opposing or endorsing creation science. 
Both sides suggested send ng proponents 
of the other side on a free trip to the 
USSR. Contributors were highly praised 
or severely condemned. Subscribers 
canceled with Kindly please. Some 
requests were made not so kindly. One 
man wrote, "God created science when He 
created the universe. Cancel my subscrip- 
tion." Another: "Cancel my subscription. 
This magazine is disgusting Iry Romans 
10:9-10." Accusations abounded: 
"Commies," "Satan-sis," "i eftists." Praise 
was plentiful: "Bravo!" "Hallelujah!" 

The following le'leis represent some of 
your responses. 

The "Science and Censorship" issue is 
considerably controversial. Let me get the 
ball rolling: Until I see religion given equal 
time in your magazine, I shall never 
open another cage of your -ag. You're 
about as ere I am 

both a scientist and a Christian, coexist- 
ing in both worlds without any problems. 
— Gary Zimmerman, Oklahoma City ■ 




By Steve Ditlea 

Like the English poet Samuel 
Taylor Coleridge, who couldn't 
remember his romantic dream of 
Xanadu, Ted Nelson suffers from memory 
lapses. But unlike Coleridge, he's living 
in an age when he can do something 
about them. 

For more than 25 years Nelson has 
been developing a computer system thai 
most people have a hard time even 
imagining: He's designing a universal 
electronic publishing network — to be 
stored on orbiting satellites — that will 
provide computer users with instantaneous 
access to the world's books, magazines, 
movies, music, and all published 
documents. Even more amazing, Nelsons 
project, callec iyou guessed t) Xanadu, 
will allow individual users to pop off into a 
universe of automated footnotes, provid- 
ing them with an electronic magic wand 
that will take [hem down the information 
path of their choosing. 

Not surprisingly, Nelson's grand scheme 
has been little more than a pipe dream 
for years. Indeed, up until last year Nelson's 

idea was belif.leu by Al gurus and hackers 
alike. But then CD-ROM (compact disk- 
read-only memory) came along, with 
its incredible electronic storage capacity 
for text, sound, and images. Suddenly 
Melson's ivory tower seemed approach- 
able. This year the first prototype of 
Nelson's system was put online on the 
powerful Sun Computer workstation 
in California. Its only text for the moment 
is Nelson's own 13-year-o!d classic, 
Computer Lib/Dream Machines, "the first 
cult book of the computer generation." 
Info World, a computer industry magazine, 
called Nelson's futuristic book "a mani- 
festo for the computer revolution— the 
Common Sense of a latter-day Tom Paine." 
It's only fitting, then, that Computer Lib/ 
Dream Machines s the ~Tst oublication to 
prove that Nelson's vision of Xanadu 
can indeed be realized. 

Essentially, Xanadu is a storage medium 
thai can grow to any size. It's also the 
best medium for Nelson's sophisticated 
software package known as hypertext. 
Hypertext operates on the theory that if . 

you can tag each piece of information — 
be it sound, text, or an image — with an 
identifying number, you can then organize 
those numbers into a system, like 
(although Nelson hates this analogy) the 
Dewey decimal system in a library. Once 
a piece of information has been labeled 
and stored, any user can access the 
information from the pool. For example, if 
you have called up a book on Dwight 
E sen how or and see .?. reference to a 
jacket he wore, Xanadu could allow you 
to punch a key and read about thai style of 
jacket; punch another key and you can 
retrieve the history of jackets. 

Or, say you've accessed a Los Angeles 
Times story about a man who plans to 
have his pet dog cloned before it dies. 
After you've read the story, you can punch 
a button to find out more about the 
process and potential of cloning, or you 
can head off in an entirely different 
direction and call up stories about the 
man's particular breed ot dog. The only 
catch is that the writer who has put the 
story in Xanadu must also create the 
necessary links to the other information. 
Users cannot make those links themselves. 
Still, Xanadu's ability to allow these sorts 
of detours, or bridges, from one piece 
of information to another is what makes the 
program so revolutionary. It's also what 
promises to make Nelson a famous man. 

Sitting in his San Antonio apartment 
crowded with stacks of papers and 
magazines, the boyish-iooking Nelson 
seems an unlikely candidate for computer 
visionary. The son of actress Celeste 
Holm and film director Ralph Nelson, he 
grew up amid show biz and bohemianism 
in New York's Greenwich Village. He 
wanted to write novels and screenplays 
and stumbled on io computers in an 
attempt to speed up the process of 
preparing his projects. "I wanted a word- 
processing prog ran", that would let you 
link ^nd compare different versions of a 
document," he explains, "but nobody was 
talking about such things then." 

While earning a philosophy degree at 
Harvard in I960, he decided to develop the 
program himself. Hypertext was born. "I 



By Doug Stewart 

^^\ mong Ihose who witnessed the 
X'™^^ space shuttle Challenger's 
M \ explosion at Cape Canaveral 
last year was a small learn of scientists on 
hand to ready a device for its next flight 
four months later. Once in Earth orbit, 
the device — an unmanned, instrument- 
studded spacecraft called Ulysses — 
would launch itself by booster rocket on a 
voyage over the top of the sun. 

Today the shell of Ulysses sits earth- 
bound and immobile in a climate- 
controlled storeroom in Germany. Most of 
its nine scientific instrument have been 
removed and placed in tightly sealed 
boxes and tan-s here and abroad. The 
project, in NASA parlance, is in "stall 
mode," waiting for a liftoff. Many see 
Ulysses as a grim symbol of whaf has, or 
has not, happened to U.S. space science 
since the Challenger accident. 

"Every year we have to put another ten 
million dollars in," says NASAs Dave 
Bohlin, Ulysses' orcgram sc enlist. The 
money helps hold together skeleton teams 
of scientists and engineers who monitor 
■ ihis exotic piece of equipment and retest 

the various instruments every few 
months, looking for gummed-up lubricants, 
computer-chip glitches, moving parts 
that no longer swivel anc switch. "You can't 
just put equipment like this in a plastic 
bag and let it sit any more than you can 
put an automobile ,ip or bocks for three or 
four years and suddenly put gas in it 
and expect it to start," says Bohlin. 

Mosl of the scientisls and engineers 
who have worked on Ulysses over the past 
ten years have been roass'gned to other 
projects. Oftic ally, Ulysses is set for a 
1990 launch, but in light of its long history 
of delays, some parlicipanis wonder if 
the mission will ever fly. In their darker 
moments, a few suggest that the subdis- 
cipline of which Ulysses is a corner- 
stone — the physics of the heliosphere — 
may simply close up shop. 

"We have a launch window of twenty 
days in Octobe' i&90.' says John Simpson, 
a physicist at the University of Chicago's 
Enrico Fermi Institute and the one individ- 
ual who has been the project's guiding 
light since its inception. "Only one shuttle 
is equipped for us. If it were grounded' 

or unable to carry us, we would be lost." 

It was back in 1959 that Simpson first 
began pushing for his long-range goal— 
an unmanned mission that would fly 
out of the plane of the planets and high 
above the poles of the sun. You couldn't 
expect to study a three-dimensional 
universe, he argued, if you were stuck in 
a two-dimensional world. Also, a stormy 
tangle of powerful magnetic field lines 
around Ihe sun's equator would distort any 
approaching instrument's attempt to 
take measurements of cosmic rays. A 
probe well above or below the equatorial 
plane would be out of Ihe range of most 
of this magnetic activity Such a probe 
could explore more clearly the physics of 
the heliosphere, from solar flares and 
magnetic fields to cosmic rays. 

In the inner solar sysiem, where we are, 
Simpson explains, the sun's magnetic 
field, which is earned out oy :he solar wind, 
tends to sweep away the bulk of the 
cosmic rays that come streaming in from 
space. The range of this magnetic sweep 
reaches to the c-jtcmos: planet. "Even 
out to Pluto we're still in the region oi 
tangled magne:ic : ielcis. ' Simoson says. 

By going over the poles, Ulysses has 
more direct exposure to inlersleliar space. 
There the craft can study a flow of cosmic 
rays that are no: deisctablc around the 
sun's equator. Just as auroral particles 
come streaming into the earth's poles from 
space, cosmic rays How into the sun's 
polar' zones from outer space. 

Simpson was forty-two when he began 
his campaign for Ulysses. Twenty years 
passed before NASA approved the 
mission as part of a joint project with the 
European Space Agency (ESA), with 
NASA and ESA each contributing a 
spacecraft. Then, in 1981, came the budget 
cuts. NASA canceled its spacecraft, 
and Ulysses was reduced to whatever 
the ESA craft could carry. Dozens of 
scientists found themselves dumped from 
the mission, their experiments killed. 
Other problems ensued — shuttle delays, 
booster- rocket doubts — and the launch 
date slipped from 1983 to 1986. Then the 
Challenger exploded. 

John Simpson is now seventy years 




By Joni K. Miller 

Ever wonder how they gel the 
filling into Twinkies or how normal 
food is turned into airline food? 
Or who determines how many of each 
letter get into a can of alphabet soup? 
Such questions may seem rather moot, 
but consider this one: What do they do 
with olive pils' ; Ninety percent of the 
glossy black, ripe California olives sold in 
America are pitted — and that means 
approximate y 20 m llior tons of pits 
annually. So where are they? 

Perhaps no one has devoted more time 
and money lo Ihe problem than Lindsay 
Olive Growers, the largest and oldest ripe 
olive processor in America. Nestled in 
the warm inland valley of Lindsay ("a great 
town, a great olive"). California, the 
Lindsay property is dotted with gnarled, 
silver-leaved olive trees. It was here 
that the prototype for the first mechanized 
pitting device ■/.■■as developed and where 
today's machines are capable ol pitting 
belween 1,000 and 1.800 olives per minute. 
In a typical 18-hour Lindsay shitt, 180 
tons of olives come under the knives, 
leaving behind 7 million to 8 million pits. 
"To people around here, pits can be 
kind ol a pain," admits cannery subfore- 
rnan Gene Sinclair 'Pits don't roll. They 
don't float. They're just there. They can start 
accumulating like ants." 

This accumulation, referred to as "the 
pit problem." has been the bane of Ihe 
industry for years. Because pits are 
composed of belween 55 and 65 percent 
water, they must,be dried thoroughly 
before they can be successfully reused. 
Drying the pits takes time, money, and 
space — lots of it. Dumping, once an easy 
solution, has grown increasingly difficult. 
State-owned landfill dump sites were 
once plentitul and Iree; today fees are 
charged, and new environmental regula- 
tions may phase the dumps out 
altogether. For the most part, pits are 
hauled by truck to such dump sites or 
given away for use as pea gravel or filler 
in driveways and along citrus- and olive- 
orchard roadways, to hold down dust. 

Robert Webster, a retired Lindsay plant 
manager and cnerricai engineer, spent 
more than half of his 42 years in the olive 

22 OMNI 

business pursuing pr-recyc! ng schemes, 
shipping out tons of olives lo inventive 
individuals and industries (many of which 
traditionally have found uses for other 
agri- by products such as rice hulls and nut- 
shells). Potential uses have ranged from 
the obvious (toy-animal stuffing) to the 
sublime (rosary beads) to the cosmetic (a 
facial scrub that was too scratchy). The 
pi".s were judged too salty and slow 
burning for cha'coa briquettes and 
ineffective in bug-bait carriers. As an 
ingredient in plastics, natural oil in Ihe pits 
diminished the strength of the plastics 
and turned them a "bad" color. Inevitably, 
someone tried to turn pits into jewelry. 
N'aomi Lozano, Lindsay's research and 
development manager, st; I nas a String ol 
beads from the Oregon craftsman who 
sold olive-pit jewelry at a roadside stand. 

Perhaps even more enterprising — 
and logical — have been the attempts to 
incorporate large quantities of pits into 
livestock feed. But cows don't seem 
to like them and have been known to eat 
everything else, leaving the pits behind. 

At Lindsay, everyone's tavorite experi- 

ment for disposng of piis lies buried in 
the back of a cabinet in the plant manag- 
er's office, carefully preserved for poster- 
ity in an old bread wrapper. I! looks 
and smells like a giant chunk of chewing 
tobacco. Intended as a fireplace log, it 
weighed infinitely more than a wood log, 
produced a totally unsalable odor, and 
didn't burn properly. Reluctantly, the 
fireplace L log manufacturers decided to 
slick with sawdust. Lindsay continued to 
search for a solution. 

Then, late last year, a lowboy truck 
inched its way past the giant cement olive 
in front of the Lindsay factory and pulled 
into the receiving area. On it lay the 
future: a new fluid-bed boiler system — 
ac'aolcd by nuiDyne Engineering Corpo- 
ration in Minneapolis — that is eventually 
expected to provide up to 80 percent 
of Lindsay's energy needs by burning 40 
to 50 tons of pits daily. 

The new system works by feeding pits 
from a silo into a carbon boiler, where 
they are blown onto the top of :he fluid bed. 
Though actually filled with sand, the 
bed has all of the properties ol a fluid, 
dislriout ng ils conicnts evenly. A low- 
velocity Ian blows a stream of air into the 
sand at the bed bottom until the grains 
are suspended The cits levitate in this 
whirlwind, where the sand eventually 
reaches temperatures between 800° and 
900° P Moving back and forth, the grains 
rub oif moisture (and o-ive lesh) from the 
oitsunH they ignite. The boiler's hot 
sand particles rub ,ip against the boiler 
tubes, transferring heafwhich is then 
used to turn water into steam. In the end. 
Ions of burdensome pits will be trans- 
formed into a tine powder, which can be 
eas !y bagged lor disposal. 

Given the failure of SO many other 
potential solutions to Ihe pit problem, the 
new system appears to be an auspicious 
development especia y so because 
the industry's very existence depends on 
pit. removal. In the words of California 
Olive Committee manager Dave Daniels. 
whose task is to "effect the orderly 
marketing of olives grown in Cali- 
fornia"; "If you can't pit 'em, you won't 
sell 'em. "DO 



y Elizabeth Stone 

In the davs before :he printing press, 
scribes arduously copied sacred 
volumes by hand; and illuminators. 
using crushed sapphires and beetle wings, 
labored lo achieve just the nght shade 
of blue. Wealthy collectors like the Medici 
family commissioned such consummate 
artists to produce the elaborate texts. 
And they paid exorbitant prices: A single 
missal cost a vineyard; two Latin 
grammars, a house plus the lot it sat on. 

Today thousands of these relics remain 
shelved deep in the heart of the Vatican 
Library in Rome. For centuries lew people 
have seen most ot them, their fragility so 
extreme that a single hefl or a careless 
turning of a page could destroy them 
forever. Bu! Iharks to tne agents of Hell, 
no less, and Ihe magic of modern 
technology, a dozen of these priceless 
treasures have, after a fashion, reappeared 
for public viewing. 

Hell is Rudolf Hell, Inc.. a West German 
company that specializes in computer 
imaging systems like those firs! used 
when Voyage/ Hashed p ctires of Saturn 
" back to Earth. And Hell established a 
sort of stronghold in Ihe Vatican when West 
German publisher Belser-Verlag 
purchased its equipment. "Such computer 
imaging systems have been used for 
normal four-color work, but they have never 
been used in a project ol this magrvtuoe " 
says Bernd Friedrich, Belser-Verlag's 
director overseeing the facsimiles' 
production. "This computer imaging can 
pick up all the fine details of the 
manuscripts and render Ihe absolute top 
quality we want." 

The goal is to produce perfect re- 
creations of selected manuscripts — right 
down to the mysterious b otch on a 
yellowed page, centuries-old wormholes, 
even insect bites in Ihe vellum. "Such 
deiails will allow scholars to study the 
intricacies of creating the originals," says 
Rev. Leonard E. Boyle. O.R, prefect of 
Ihe library and a member of Ihe five- 
person committee coordinating the project. 

So far they've r eorodL,ccd such sacred 
and secular volumes as Biblia Pauperu'm, 
or ihe Poor Man's Bible, and Alphabetum 
Romanum, the first treatise on Roman 

24 OMNI 

letters to appear di.' ny the Renaissance. 

Chosen for the project because ol its 
historical value. The Tournament Book 
chronicles jousting events of the late 
Middle Ages, with the names and lineages 
of participants. The seventeenth- century 
text extravagantly illuslrates the knights in 
full regalia, with plumed steeds, family 
crests, and coats of arms. And Ptolemy's 
Cosmography, a fifteenth-century copy 
of the now-lost second-century atlas, 
boasts maps of the Old World, as well as 
fifteenth-century updates on such urban 
centers of Ihe Renaissance world as 
Rome, Milan, and Cairo. 

Jhe painstaking work of restoring the 
originals and producing the facsimiles 
takes place beneath the i brary's archives 
' in a fully equipped, environmentally 
controlled studio. Once ihe restoration is 
completed, high-tech scribes place a 
photographic transparency of each page 
on the illumination table of a chroma- 
scope, the firsl of two computers used in 
the facsimile process. The real work 
begins when a video camera flashes an 
image of the page onto a monitoring 

Saving books from the sins ol 

screen, which allows a comparison of the 
screen image and the original page, 

Using a futuristic painl box — the many 
dials on the computer — the repro-techni- 
cian labors until the colors exactly match 
those of the original. The powers of vision 
employed would have seemed supernat- 
ural to a medieval scribe: With the trans- 
parency^ image Transformed into 6 
m'llion pixels (picture elements), the 
technician can alier the color in even a 
single pixel if necessary. The process is 
more intensive than that of the medieval 
predecessors, who, on a good day. could 
copy two pages in an hour. For the 
conlcmpcary computer scribe, the 
process of making one identical on-screen 
image may take up to five hours. 

Once the computer scribe is satisfied 
with the altered image, the second 
computer, a chromograph scanner, "reads" 
Ihe image and converts the transparency 
in r o elect' ca encgy sigr,a : s. It then 
synthesizes this information and the alter- 
ations Iransmitted by the chromascope, 
creating the color negative used to 
produce a prinier's proof. 

Still more adjustments are made until 
the manuscript is as close to the original as 
possible. But nothing goes lo the printer 
until final approval is given — and thai can 
come only from the library prefect. "I 
authorize publication only if I am satisfied 
that it's in complete agreement with the 
original." Boyle says. "If I'm not satisfied, it 
goes back lor further adjustments." 

Once the facsimile is approved and 
copies printed, the ancient crafts take over. 
Illuminators paint each halo and wing in 
gold leaf, the finest bookbinders sew 
the pages together, and the best leather- 
workers hand-tool the covers. 

When the facs mhos rna.Ke their debut. 
a few replace the originals in ihe Vaiican 
Library, where researchers can thumb 
through them. Fine-book collectors buy 
the others through Belser-Verlag and 
other worldw cie rep'eseniatives, like 
Belvedere Press in the United States. 

As for the resiored originals, they are 
carefully entombed in an environmentally 
conlrolled chamber where no mortal 
will ever lay eyes on them again. DO 



Last winter, when the news first came out about super- 
conductors, the scientific world went bananas. It 
seemed that physicists everywhere were doing cart- 
wheels of joy. Or were they? As the news reports went 
on. you could tell, reading between (he lines, that al leas! some ' 
physicists were, well, not exactly disgruntled but suffering from 
what one mighl call the nyaah-nyaah effect. 

You say you've never heard of the nyaah-nyaah effect? 

The nyaah-nyaah effect has to do with the sad reality that in 
the egalitarian meritocracy of the research world (1) some sci- 
ences are more equal than others, and (2) there is some dis- 
agreement about precisely which sciences are most equal. 

Take the (uss over superconductivity, the phenomenon in which 
electricity passes through certain substances without any re- 
sistance at all. The discovery that a whole. class of materials might 
have this property under ordinary (rather than supercooled) con- 
ditions has implications straight out of science fiction: floating 
trains, ult.rapowerful computers, that run on flashlighl batteries, 
and very strong electromagnets, thousands of times stronger 
than the most powerful magnets previously known. This is the 
stuff of technological revolutions, Time covers, and Nobel prizes: 
and the scientists who worked on it are walking on air. 

They are called solid-state physicists because they study mat- 
ter in its solid slate. Lumps of stuff, in other words. Now, talking 
to solid-state physicists, one quickly notices that many have a 
bone to pick with their colleagues in other branches of physics. 
Ordinarily, the solid-state people say, they are treated by astro- 
and bio- and particle physicists as if solid-state physics were 
something. . .ordinary. As if it were chemistry or something. 

According to the solid-state physicists, the particle physicists 
are particularly bad. No matter how important their discoveries, 
solid-state physicists groan, they wouldn't get media coverage 
themselves (and hence research money and respectability) if 
everyone in the field ran naked past the White House. But parti- 
cle physicists don't even have to find anything. They get their 
names splashed around the papers merely for proposing to build 
a multibiliion-dollar machine the size of Manhattan to hunt for 
hypothetical particles with precious, oh-so-whimsical names like 
wino and axion. And where is the money lor this monstrosity — 
sometimes called the Desertron — going to come from? From the 

budget lor other oranches oi | >hysics. say the solid-state guys. 

It's particularly unfair, they say, if you look at the record. In the 
last 60 years, solid-state physicists have discovered supercon- 
ductors and semiconductors: explained why magnets stick to- 
gether and electricity flows through copper wire; produced s.u- 
perthin coatings with extraordinary properties: created designer 
molecules; and invented the transistors, resistors, capacitors, and 
so forth that have taken us into our current electronic era. In the 
same period, solid-state physicists like to say, particle physicists 
have discovered a lot of . . . particles. 

So it's been a treat to see solid-state guys on the MacNeil! 
Lehrer Newshour and the cover of Time. And an even bigger 
treat to see Philip Anderson of Bell Labs, one of the world's great 
solid-state physicists, dusting it up with the particle people in The 
New York Times. The.argument has to do with magnets. Regular 
electromagnets can generate fields of only limited strength be- 
cause the magnet melts when you put in too much juice. Super- 
conducting magnets have no resistance, will not melt, and thus 
can make hellaciously strong magnets. 

Now, particle accelerators are generally built in the shape of 
big rings, with each particle careening around the doughnut ap- 
proximately eleven! y-zill ion times before smacking into a target 
To guide the particle around, you use a powerful magnet. The 
stronger the magnet, the more it can turn the particles, and the 
smaller the doughnut the particle has to go around. A hella- 
ciously powerful magnet means an iity-bilty doughnut. 

And an itly-bitty doughnut, Anderson points out, means that a 
multibiliion-dollar accelerator the size of Manhattan might not 
make any sense. The solid-state physicists may have figured out 
a way to make magnets strong enough to let the Desertron be 
plopped inside an accelerator that already exists. The particle 
physicists say, well, we can't be sure. We shouldn't kill ihe Des- 
ertron for something that may not turn out, they say. Certainly 
they have a point there. As do the solid-state physicists when 
they ask if America should spend so much of its scarce research 
money on something that might be obsolete before it is built. 

The discussion is sober and courteous, but in the back and 
forth among Ihe scientists — wonderful minds, to tell the Iruth, on 
both sides— it's possible to hear, floating in the background, the 
real crux of the matter: nyaah-nyaah I— CHARLES C, MANN 


**^ ^^H 



H I 


, T/ 1Pp ,. e -„ 

lilma inzotv:*; li'iai all Wanness bin 

sotescewfetff/om a single. 

■_-/■_?■■ .'.:-;: f;fiyS ■'/" ■' 

g dinosaurs 


one or more ancestors." 
It's a controversial evolu- 


Did the osirich evolve 

tionary theory, one that 


backward— from a bird lha! 

counters a long-standing 


could fly? 

belief that flightless birds 


Smithsonian ornithologist 

descended from a single. 

Refer Houde soent six years 

tliahliess ancestor before 

tracking down some 75 

continental drift 90 million to 
65 million years ago split 
the landman of theSouihcm 
Hemisphere and sent them 
■_-v."' jrn ;i eii.erc-ni directions 


less one "The very first 

on separate continents. 

s had to 

birds probably evolved from 

Among Houde's evidenco 

small dinosaurs [known 

were the 50-million-year- 

■ where 

as] coolurosaurs." Houde 

oki lossils of the throe oldest 


theories. "Over m:llionsof 

known ostriches. Uncovered 

vears, ostriches and other 

in (East) Germany shortly 


ratites (.flightless birds! 

before World War II, they had 

8 years. 

evolved independently into 

been long forgotten until 

La wren 

flightless creatures from 

Houde came across a 1928 


iconomic scale, the mor 
earth problems you'll fin 
wank concludes. "My 

47 -<^C 

-Aifred North Whitehead 


; thing- Paul Mac 

weighs only 60 pounds, yet 
spoils i4-!ooi blades. An- 
other is a radically new type 
of transmission, which Brace 
claims is "fifty percent more 
powerful and a hundred 
percent more efficient than 
any other human-powered 

As of this writing, Brace 
says he has tested his new 
model and claims "it flies " 
Eventually, if his brainchild 
can hover for a full minute. 

wilfi his Go 

attain an altitude ol ten feet, 

1977 — bu1 

and stay within a prescribed 

ered helico 

area he will be the first 

"A plane 

winner ol a 520,000 prize 
offered by the American 

Helicopter Socieiy. The com- 

panion includes a team 


from California Polytechnic 

ner Marine pilot 

University, and Japanese and 


an engineer 

English teams, both ol which 
recently "pave up." accord- 
ing to Brace. 

Califo ■ 

He won't be the pi lol. 

however. "I'm too big 1 weiah 

yaswiftty pedal- 

a hundred and eighty 


pounds," he notes. "The pilot 

et is Space Age 

should weigh about a hun- 

plastics like Kevlar. 

dred and forty and have 

thanks tow 

hich the craft 

strong legs." — Judith Hooper 



It now appears thai plants 
can- see. Their "eyes" are 
directed not toward the soil 
or one another, but to the 
sun. Their goal: to follow old 
Sol and gather as much 
light as possible. 

One leader in sun-tracking 
research is biologist Fulton 
Fisher of Simon Fraser Uni- 
versity in Vancouver. "It's 
hardly what you would call 
thought," he says, "but some 
plants do 'remember' where 
the sun rose and, in the 
dark ot night, turn their reaves 
around, ready to face [he 
morning sun. It's long been 
known that plants can follow 
the sun precisely, but no 
one knew how it worked." 

Enter Israeli researcher Dov 
Koller, who found that the 
seedlings of the plant Lava- 
ieia creiica "sspond differ- 
ently to blue and red light. 
Fisher set out to learn how. 
The red light is needed for 
photosynthesis, Fisher con- 
cluded, but he found that 
only blue light determines the 
30 OMNI 

::ireCi : or ihe plan: moves. 
The next question: How 
do plants "see" the blue light? 

"For the blue light to be. 
absorbed, there had to be a 
receptor, like a retina, of 
tne complementary color," 
says Fisher. A simple slice 
with a razor blade revealed 
ciehcaie yellow cells in the 
middle ot the leaves' veins, 
right where the blue light 
would have to be absorbed. 

Fisher also found "long, 
-wisparBni curved windows" 
running the length of the 
veins, with just fhe right cur- 
vature to concentrate light 
on the yellow cells. These 
then send a "message sub- 
stance through the sugar 
circulation system." When the 
message reaches each 
leaf's pivot point, little hy- 
d r aulic ceils expand or deflate 
on opposite sides, turning 
the leaf toward the light. 

Fisher is now working on 
finding the substance that 
signals the plants' motor cells 
at the pivots to turn the 
leaves as they track the sun, 
— Vincent Bozzi 


Dressing for success 
these days? Consider this, 
next time you jet off to that big 
meeting: Your fashion state- 
ment could mean the differ- 
ence between life and death 
should your plane go down. 

"I look at how people 
are dressed, how they act on 
airplanes, and it's sad to 
say that a lot of them don't 
stand a snowball's chance in 
hell of surviving," says engi- 
neer Greg Jarrells, an expert 
in (lying safety, crash surviv- 
ability, and emergency 
egress. As a consultant to 
the Aviation Safety Institute, 
Jarrells has been gaining 
renown of late for his brief- 
ings— complete with slides of 
i : amnc disasters. 

If your plane goes down, 
your chances of survival 
are 90 percent. With a fire 
they drop to 65 percent- 
While only 15 percent of all 
aircraft crashes resuil in 
fire. 60 percent of all fatalities 
occur in that number, "If 
you survive Ihe impact, there's 

■,y,' .?.■.. ■■■>. ■'.-- ;>'ie impact oi n ■::ash. you can ge ! ■:::;:. bu: 
you'll need Ihe ngt':t clothes- Forge: about leather and polyes 

no reason you shouldn't get 
out,"-says Jarrells, "provided 
you know what you're doing," 
Among his tips: 

• Dress smartly. "Multiple 
layers of light-colored, fitted 
clothing made of natural 
fabrics [cotton, wool] are 
best. Synthetic materials usu- 
ally melt, causing serious 
burn injuries. Leather is the 
worst: That stylish bomber 
jacket will quickly become a 
coal of Saran Wrap." 

• Don't drink. "The booze you 
consume will hi! you harder 
and faster. If you're slowed 
down, you'll be history." 

• Count on absolutely nobody 
else to get you out. "Make 
an emergency escape plan. 
Listen lo the flight attendants, 
and read the emergency 
cards. Know exacily where 
the exits are, and wear your 
sea: bell tightly across the 
pelvic area." 

Confrary to myth, there is 
no one best place to sit. Says 
Jarrells, "True, airplanes 
don'! back into mountains, 
but people have been 
mapped by smoke and fire' in 
the tail sections." 

— A.J.S. Rayl 

"We shall have a race of men 
who are strong on telemetry 

and -pace communications 
but who cannot read 
anything but a blueprint or 
write anything but a computer 

—John K. Galbraith 

"When I am working on a 
problem, I never think about 
beauty. .1 think only of how 
to solve the problem. But 
when I have finished, if the 
solution is not beautiful, I 
know it is wrong." 

—R. Buckminster Fuller 


has also yielded some note- 1 

"The facl lhat we have 

■*•>:■■••:■ '-•■•> --r:' ; - - 1 

rW= ' ~™ "I" 

Worthy scientific data: The 

found any at all," notes Lewis, 

^^^ ■■"""" ''"" " " 

rate of money deposited 

""means that there must be 

in parking lois, Danner says, i 

extravagant amounts of 

./\^-?/;<4d^B? ' 

is greatest in winter, when 

diamond dust floating in the 

.;■■'.: :'-:^^F~: '■■ 

visibility is lowest. But on 

universe — perhaps millions 

beaches It's ;ust Ihe reverse 

of solar masses of it." 

. Jf 

Coins nile up as people 

As for the commercial 

shed their c'Oines un let ihe 

application of the discovery. 


summer sun -Bill Lawren 

Anders says lhat Russian, 

' ^r 

Japanese, and American ex- 


perimenters have had only 

" -■" J^Bl 

modeiate success with 

Newspapers recently 

attempts to make diamonds 

■" ■ «- r 

- - '■•>.': v ■*^/:-->- '"' -'■,:<.'■ 

carried the news about a Few 

at relatively tow pressures- 

1 -^ I ^ ; : 1 

ordinary-looking meteorites 

■since the early Sixties. As 

,-:£■'" JfiS^^^I 

that contained a sprinkling. 

■soon as. Ihe meteorite dis- 

^^Hi ' 

of tiny diamonds apparently 

covery became public, 

7 ' 1 

Hi • •* 

formed by an ancient star. 

researchers called Anders. "I 


This dramatic news-has 

told them to go lo an- astron- 

^^ -JiS 

startling implications. 

omy text and look up Condi- 

Roy S. Lewis and Edward 

tions in the atmospheres 

■ ftJSS 

Anders, two University of 

of red giant stars," he reports. 

Chicago chemists, had been 

for he and Lewis. believe 

examining the meteorites 

that the tiny diamonds were 

tor 12 years before finding the 

formed more than 4.5 billion 

.■,.■■■■:■ ■.-.'■-. - 

microscopic diamonds. 

years ago in the death throes 

They knew the meteorites 

of such astar, 

contained a rare form of the 

"Somebody will probably 

/l Csradra/i gociogis! ntucivinq b 

gas xenon, which must 

get rich because of this 

ha: parhng !u'~ ■■.■■■'.■. .■■'■J '"wv<- ma^ 

have come from beyond (and 

discovery." Anders says, 

before.) the solar system. 

laughing. "But it won't be Ro\ 


call lag gravel Coins, Danner 

: bu! they had to struggle for 

Lewis or me " — Dava Sobel 

reasoned, should be part ot 

some time to identify the ' 

Geologists who search for 

that gravel. Sure enough, 

"carrier" that held the xenon 

ISitisiH SKlEf'-' 

oil deposits study the way 

when he started searching 

inside the meteorites. ■ 

9k ■ __ 

sand and finer recks filter their 

the gravelly areas of local 

"We weren't looking for 

way down through the earth— 

beaches ("1 had to beal out 

i diamonds," says Lewis; and 

' I -BKf # ^-v, ' 

a scientific subdiscipline 

all the old guys with metal 

when one of his'colieagues 

^HP* 3» iljH 

known as sedimentoiogy. 

detectors," he says), he 

: wound up an experiment 

E^nT i-- Itjfl 

Now a geologist al the Uni- 

found a series ot minor trea- 

. on the black meteorite mate- 

| Hk**r~ &fl 

versity o( British Columbia in 

sure troves S'Ttling to uni- 

j rial with only a whitish resi- 

Canada has applied the 

versity parking lois. he found 

■ due. he said, "Oh, damn! I've 

Hp^"' ^^^B 

principles of sedimentoiogy 

'hat winds had picked up 

; dissolved all the carbon." 

^^^^\i- ^^H 

o the- search tor coins unwil- 

misplaced dollar bills and 

; But the carbon was still there. 

|Hb ^H 

lingly deposited in parking 

deposited' them around 

: in the form of diamond grains 

^K : *W 

otsandon beaches. 

the edges of the lots, "jusi 

! so tiny that a million of them 

■L \ jA 

Wilbert Danner knew that 

■ike sand dunes." 

lumped together would still be 

er pebbk 

■;r-y,\ _ | 




if you want to lose ■■ 
•— n~ e your besi 
3 Study n 
by Dr. Grant Gwinup, : 

ir :he hyp 

y loss rec 


the fat de 

■ -Linda 

J. Brown 

jomas Ha 




syrup w.l'' 
■Ah pp«d 

/ogurt Co 
Hie; cons 

;feam^ Th 
rands of m 

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jtency of 

st a lew j 

" McMath says 
ent of those be 
ss. Decidedly 

duced by Block Druo. 
■ So has McMaih come, up 
with a formula to help manu- 


—Bill Lai 

sL Tve gone into hundreds oi 

'1 £" " iiwi'jne-teiws panonl an: 

1 1 J I ! nave beer, told thousands 

' *Htf ° nhl!! S s - but nooocfy ever 

H^n. j told me I was-a-poticewoma 

:ts | . getting ready to arrest her. " 

e . i —Mew Vork City detecti\ 


When is a boar (an uncas- 
traied mate pig, to the iiriini- . 
dated) not a boar? Thanks to 
five Michigan State Univer- 
sity scientists, a boar can 
remain a boar and yet have 
no sex life. 

Why is this desirable? Well, 
the pheromones, or sex 
attractants, of uncastrated 
animals give their meat 
an acrid, urinelike smell, 
which is why hogs destined 
for the.butcher are castrated. 
On the, other hand, boars 
produce lean meat 25 io 30 
percent more efficiently 
than their desexed brethren. 
Ergo, if you could just get 
an uncastrated pig without 
the pheromones. . . . 

Roger Brooks, Albert 
Pearson, Maynard Hogberg, 
James Pestka, and Ian 
Gray— all of Michigan State 
University — have managed to 
do just that. They invented 
a vaccine, composed of 
bovine serum albumin cou- 
pled to pheromones, that 
causes hogs to produce anti- 

bodies to their own phero- 
mones. ihe odorlike agents of 
sexual attraction. 

Are female pigs no longer 
attracted to the vaccinated 
boars, or do the boars them- 
selves lose interest? "We 
| don't know the answer to 
j that," confides Pearson, "But 
i the animals have fewer 
; pheromones in their tissues. 
■ The meat is leaner and 
! cheaper to produce than that 
i of castrated animals." The 
| result could be cheaper, 
i leaner.pork in the future. 

— Judith Hooper 

"Today we know four types of 
forces — electromagnetic, 

: gravitational, and the strong 
and weak nuciear forces, 
Bui Ihe existence o! the latter 
two was not even suspected 
before this century. I don't 
believe that we have found all 
the forces in nature yet. 
There is probably at least 
one more type of energy 
operating' at the physical level 
which serves to supporl 
psychic phenomena." 

—William Tiller 


; ;-- : k 

When bells are struck, 
certain resonance frequen- 
cies predominate 
the bells are i 
frequencies cr 
same," saysRic 
' applies Io human bones. 
A tibia, for example, has its 
lowest resonance frequency 
at around one hundred 
twenty- hertz, but that of a 
fractured tibia is lower still 
because the site of the 
fracture is more flexible." 

Now Collier, senior elec- 
tronics lecturer at the Univer- 
sity of Kent at Canterbury, 
England, has devised a 
simple and painless tech- 
nique for listening to and 
monitoring the healing of bro- 
ken limbs. Without necessar- 
ily removing the plaster first, 
the doctor applies a pistol- 
shaped electromechanical 
vibrator to a limb. As the limb 
vibrates, the frequencies 
picked up are displayed on a 
digital 'eadeut. 

Until now, Collier points 
out, doctors have lacked an 
accurate method of measur- 
ing a fractured, bone's state 
of repair. With the new device 
they will be able io compare 
the resonance frequencies 
of, say, a fractured and a 
normal tibia. As the- broken 
bone heals, the variation 
dwindles to zero (though 
since a healed bone -eventu- 
ally becomes stronger than 
it was originally, a small 
variation appears and per- 
sists after healing). 

Currently the device is 
being tested at hospitals 
around England. It had its first 
public demonstration at the 
university's open day, when 
visitors were invited to check 

on the stated iha'.Mi&as. A 
few were startled to discover 
they were walking around 
with hairline fractures. 

—Ivor Smullen 

"In nature we find no! only 
that which is expedient but 
also everything which is 
not so inexpedient as to 
endanger the existence of 
the species." 

—Konrad Lorenz 

"The natural history ol science 
is the study of the unknown 
If you tear it, then you're 
not going to. study it. and' 
you're not going to make any 

—Dr. Michael E. DeBakey 



Wayne Rowley, professor 
of entomology at Iowa Stale 
University, 'ikes mo sou; ice;-: 
He is so dedicated to study- 
ing these insects that he 
has gone- unprotected' into 
areas where you could 
be- bitten 400 times an hour. 
Rowley has suffered so 
that we may arm ourselves 
with the following information: 

Rowley now knows, for 
example, thai mosquitoes use 
carbon dioxide detectors to 
locate potential meals; but 
then Ihey can get picky, 
choosing dark clothes, spe- 
cially denim- jeans, over 
light ones; and they go bon- 
kers over a dash of sweat 
or a whiff ol estrogen, which 
may explain why women 
get' bitten more often than 
men do. This seems fair, 
since only female mosquitoes 
seek blood. The males 
prefer sipping nectar. 

Many of (he world's 2,600 
to 3,000 varielies prefer 
cows, dogs, birds, lizards, or 
even frogs !o humans Of 
the 150 US. varieties, two 
kinds account for the majority 
of human biles. 

Most varieties live in the 
tropics, but our north country 
claims skeeter dominion, 
probably because all the va- 
rielies there hatch simulta- 
neously. Elsewhere new 
generations come abouf two 
weeks after each drencher. 
Drought is the best control. 

Spraying youf yard can 
help, though the wind will 
bring more skeeters. Rowleys : 
advice; Avoid exposure at 
dawn and dusk when mos- 
quitoes are biting; wear 
heavier outer clothing; and 
cover exposed skin wiih 


served as controls because 
their ages could be accu- 
r.-iMy determined from their 
styles The ages or the other 
two fragments were unknown. 
All of the shards were from 
the rims of cooking vessels, 
and Lovis obtained h;s food 
residues by scraping ihe 
blackened, carbonized rings 
found on. the cei 
rial. The residues \r 
sent to a laboratory 
erland for analysis 

And don' 
zapper for si 
have found 
'n yards with zappei 
in yards adjacent to 
without," Rowley e'xpl; 

"Tate from ma the hope that I 
can change the future and 
you will send me mad " 

— Israel Zangwilt 

''Man is Hying too fas! for a 
world thai is round. Soon 
he will catch up with himself 
In a great rear-end collision 
and Man will never know that 
what hit him from behind 


— James Thurber 

Tina experimenter who does 
no! knew what he is looking 
tor wili no! understand what 
he finds." 

—Claude Bernard 

;se!s used by 
:than 1,000 years 

hropofogis't has 
i new method for 
l-dating prehistor- 
ic pottery. 

Michigan State University's 
William Lovis says the new 
technique, developed by a 
group of physicists, uses 
a small nuclear accelerator to 
date ancient pottery from 
tiny amounts of leftover food, 
■as little as one milligram 
(35 iriillionths.-of an ounce). 
It* n i i i ton dating ■ 

requires about five grams, : 
or two tenths ol an ounce, of 
organic material. Lovis says 
ceramic specimens rarely ■ 
contain such large amounts. ■ 

In his pilot study, Lovis 
used : five. fragments ol Indian 
pottery found near Bay City, 
Michigan. Three shards 

letime pence's i ; 
assigned to them The un- 
known fragments were dated 
at.A.o 675 and a (j S85, 
plus or minus 85 years. 

What were the Indians 
eating?' Lovis did nol attempt 
to' identify what kinds of 
food were contained in the 
burned residues. Ho says, 
however, that may be made 
possible by trynei to \}-'\'-:\'y 
any proteins found in food 
residues. If proteins are 
present, that information 
might allow anthropologists 
to further study the evolution 
of dietary habils among 
prehistoric cultures 

— Joel Schwarz 

"When the man who knows 
all about tlie fruit fly 
chromosomes finds himself 
sitting next to an authority en 
Beowult . there may be 
an uneasy silence." 

—Brand Blanshard 

"I'm. astounded by people 
who want to 'know' the 

enough to find your way 
around Chinatown." 

- Woody Allen 






I roiling white cloud 
rises high into the air iron- trie nearly feature- 
less desert floor. Though (he cloud is shaped 
more like a smoking torch than a mushroom, 
there is no mistaking its explosive origin or 
the horror of its violence. That frightening 
scene, revealed by a photograph, provides 
a chilling contrast to the gentle, almost qua- 
vering voice ol the woman who explains it to 
a startled visitor. "This." she says, "is a ra- 
dioaclive cloud released over Nevada after 
a supposedly underground' nuclear weap- 
ons test." These releases are routine. "In 

tact," she continues, her voice hardening 
slightly, "some of those 'underground' tests 
are actually designed :o ioiease radioac- 
livily into the open air." 

The woman name is Rosalie Bertell. She 
is a scientist — a specialist in mathematics 
and epidemiology— a nun, and, despite a 
frail appearance, a resolute and surpris- 
ingly tough-skinned campaigner againsl 
the cumulative evi:s of ioxic waste and low- 
level radiation. Though she might not put it 
so directly, her life has been shaped by the 
most ambitious of all career choices; Ro- 
salie Bertell is out to save the world. 

She is not alone. Hundreds, perhaps 
even thousands, of other scientists, dissat- 
isfied with the mere pursuit of knowledge 
. for knowledge's sake, or unable to ignore 
the burgeoning dangers rhai are so often 
overlooked, have joined Bertell. They have 
ventured from the secure niches of aca- 
deme to become astivisis Ou! of these le- 
gions of scientific crusaders, Omni has 
chosen six of some of the liveliest and most 
effective. We know that these six are nei- 
ther singular nor necessarily unique, merely 
representative of the larger group. Some 
of these six are academic insiders' or heads 
of prestigious research institutes. Others 
prefer to operate Irom the outside in, as 
independent thinkers or as directors of their 
own maverick orgarnzatons. In either case, 
and no mailer whal particular pieces of the 
problem they have chosen to attack, the 
goals of these scientists a is essentially the 
same: to rescue the world from human folly, 
lo create a science fueled by reverence 
and humility, and to use Ihe tools of that 
science to build a new and gentler world. 


Peter Raven is a man with a mission. The 
director of the renowned Missouri Botani- 
cal Garden in Si. Louis, he is an advocate 
for the voiceless. Trees are his clients: bil- 
lions of -frees, in particular the tropical 
equatorial forests that both gird and sus- 
tain the earth that bears them. 

The great, steamy forests ol the equa- 
torial belt harbor one third of the earth's 3D 
million plant and animal species. Their 
leaves produce by photosynthesis an 
inestimable proportion 01 the oxygen in our 
atmosphere. Yet, as Raven knows only too 
well, these vital centers of life on Earth are 
disappearing — cut down by farmers, min- 
ers, and major land developers. The rate 
of destruction is not only alarming: it is po- 
tentially catastrophic. Raven is convinced 
that if present trends continue, the earth 
100 years hence will be a wasteland. 

"By that time," he says, "all the tropical 
forests of the world will have been con- 
sumed or seve.'oiy camagen. This devas- 
tation will have brought about the extinc- 
tion of as much as a third to a half of all life 
on Earth. With the destruction of the tor- 
Six scientists wiib rr.a^e a ai'f&eoce (preced- .. 
■:■■■!! ;,■■;(.'(;. ■::■■:■■(. kwn-io iron: too ictty E/vin Laszio. 
Virginia Waiboi, Peter Raven, Hunter Lovins, 
Amory Lovins, and Rosalie Bertell 

es;s. the wor'c wnl become much warmer 
than it is now, and that will result in a cer- 
tain arpouni ol moiling o- Ihe polar icecaps 
and a general rising of "sea level." 

Raven likens the human race to "a boat 
going through the rapids. We have to re- 
alize the magnitude of the problem and that 
we have an unprecedented opportunity to 
save organisms and elomenls thai can be 
of tremendous importance to our children 
and grandchildren. " 

Raven's love for plants and trees started 
early. By age I ve he was collecting plants 
and butterflies in San Francisco's Golden 
Gate Park; at nine he was already a stu- 
dent member of the California Academy of 
Sciences. At thirteen he published his tirsl 
scientific article. When, as a junior in col- 
lege, he found that one could finance a 
graduate education with grants and fel- 
lowships, he decided to become a biolo- 
gist and made a "nearly arbitrary choice to 
study plants instead of bugs." 

In 1960, with a Ph.D. from UCLA, he went 

'•They want to 
rescue the world from human 

folly, to create a 

' science fueled by reverence 

and humility, 

and to use the tools of that 

science to build 
a new and gentler world3 

to Costa Rica to teach at the Organization 
for Tropical Studies. Ironically, he says, he 
had little or no idea at the time that the for- 
ests he was teaching about were being 
destroyed. "One knew in a hazy way," he 
says, "that there were people cutting down 
trees, but it .didn't seem to be an over- 
whelming problem." His perspective was 
sharpened when he took a leaching job at 
Stanford and found himscl: occupying an 
office next to Paul Ehrlich, whose book on 
overpopulation, The Population Bomb, was 
having an international impact. Under Ehr- 
lich's tutelage, he says, "I began to realize 
that the destruction of tropical forests on a 
widespread scale was something that 
threatened very profound consequences. 
That really .got me started." 

Once started, Raven proved impossible 
to quell. As director of the botanical gar- 
den and a professor o : botany at nearby 
Washington University, he has launched 
research programs thai send a steady 
stream of students to catalog iropical plants 
and animal species found in Colombia, 
Peru, and Ecuador — three countries whose 
forests alone account for more than one 
sixth of the world's plan; species. "Until we 

know what we've go: anil where we've got 
it." he says, "we can't do anything." Once 
cataloged, information about the tropical 
biota is transferred to a computerized da- 
tabase that is available to any country or 
institution requesting assistance. 

With the database as an ongoing proj- 
ect, Raven, whose impeccable suits and 
senatorial presence give him the air of a 
veteran statesman, has gone on to be- 
come one of the ch'ol architects of a broad 
plan to preserve the forests. In the first 
place, he says, worldwide seed banks 
should be established lo ensure that no 
plant species will be allowed to die out. 
"How much o ; that is being cone?" he asks. 
"Essentially none." Small farmers in tropi- 
cal countries must be given incentives and 
assistance in ree ac'ng ocs;r uclive slash- 
and-burn agriculture, methods (the burn- 
ing of forests to make farmland) with tech- 
niques that will preserve forest lands in- 
stead of obliterating them. And tropical 
countries should be given the financial aid 
necessary to establish aggressive conser- 
vation programs along lines already de- 
veloped in Costa Rica, where as much as 
one fourth of the country's total territory is 
now under government protection. 

Raven's campaign has not been without 
its conflicts. It's often been a battle just 
getting people to recognize that there is a 
problem. Economist Julian Simon, for in- 
stance, has called the threat ol deforesta- 
tion and species loss exaggerated, saying 
thai no case can be made tor "any expen- 
sive policy of safeguarding species with- 
out more extensive ana ys s Irian lias so far 
been done." Of course, it is just the kind of 
extensive analysis that Raven is working 
so hard to achieve. Arguments like Simon's 
frustrate and anger him because they in- 
dicate a complete ignorance of what's 
happening. "Within the next thirty years," 
Raven explains, "all the tropical forests will 
have been eliminated, with the exception 
ol a lew remnants. The notion that we can 
have business as usual is wishful thinking 
of the most extreme kind." 

Although those who know him say Ra- 
ven's passion lies close to the surface, he 
is generally painted as down-to-earth and 
friendly. "Friendly." says Missouri Botanical 
Garden research director Enrique Forero, 
"without being condescending." Anyone 
who has heard him speak also knows he 
wields details like a sword. "It's amazing to 
walk with Raven ".hrough the garden," says 
colleague and former student Peter Hoch. 
"He notices everything." 

This unusual combination of drive and 
humanity has given Raven an influence far 
beyond the boundaries ol his job. "Even if 
he were to stop right now," Hoch says, "his 
impact would have been enormous. He's 
very active in the organizations that are 
dictating scientific policy in this country." 
Indeed, Raven is a past president of the 
American Institute ol Biolog ca. Sciences. 
He also gave this year's keynote address 
at the annual meeting of the powertul 
American Association for the Advance- 

merit of Science. "He's recognized as being 
one of the mosl coherent thinkers in bio- 
logical science," says Hoch. But as far as 
Raven is concerned, influence itself, even 
when considerable, is not enough,. To re- 
verse the presenl trends, millions of peo- 
ple will have to heed his warning. And the 
warning is grim indeed: "Cutting a forest 
in the tropics," he has said, "isn't like cut- 
ting one in Ohio. Once cut down, it's over, 
finished, utterly done with. And we're one 
more slep toward creating a world in which 
we cannot live." 

While Raven battles to halt the disap- 
pearance of a large portion of the earth's 
natural green matter, other scientists are 
' laboring jusl as nighliiy lo seed the planet 
with green Tarter that fas never before ex- 
isted. At the forefront of these "green revo- 
lutionaries" is Stanford plant biologist Vir- 
ginia Walbot, who last year achieved a 
breakthrough lhat may cad tc the creation 
of a whole new "generic : ib'ary" of custom- 
designed "superplants." Human agricul- 
ture, perhaps the fundament of civilization 
itself, may never again be the same. 

For millennia, farmers and crop breed- 
ers have been Irying lo improve their stocks 
by combining the best genetic character- 
istics of seve r a varieties in one plant. Until 
recently the only way to achieve these im- 
provements was by crossbreeding, a 
process that is slow, cumbersome, and not 

a ways o"fcclivo AH thai changed, though, 
when recombinant DNA technology, or 
gene-splicing (methods for combining dif- 
ferent bits of genetic information), ex- 
ploded on the scientific scene in the Sev- 
enties, It suddenly oecame 'ealistic to think 
about redesigning agricultural crops in the 
laboratory, altering Iheir characteristics by 
manipulating the very hear! oi the organ- 
isms: the genes themselves. 

As a biology professor al Washington 
University. Virginia Walbot, a big, enthu- 
siastic woman with a hearty laugh and a 
predilection 'or the wore fantastic, was at 
the center of that revolution. Indeed, she 
seemed born for the job. As early as age 
five she was cofecl.ng plants and dotting 
the lawns of her parents' Los Angeles home 
with rose and vegetab e gardens. By the 
time she was a teenager, she was noticing 
that some of her plants had irregular 
branches with leaves and flowers a differ- 
ent color from those of the rest of the plant. 
How did that happen? she wondered. "I 
had the key ingredient for a. scientist: I just 

This driving cunosiy eventually led her 
lo study moiecolar bo : ogy at Yale and plant 
structure at Stanford, where she worked 
with Peter Raven. After completing her 
Ph.D. in 1972 she began to experiment with 
two of the world's most important food 
crops: corn and rice. When gene-splicing 
r.cchnlaues oecarne available she began 
to think in terms of altering corn and rice 



genes to creak: si-air s iha; would be more 
resistant to cold and pests. Even though 
such alteraiior was then Theoretically fea- 
sible, a considerable problem remained: 
how to actua..y get he desroe snippets ol 
new genetic material into the cells of the 
plants themselves. For some crops — car- 
rots, for example— new- genes could be 
carried into the hearts of the cells by cer- 
tain kinds of bacteria. This technique did 
not work particularly well, however, for ce- 
reals like rice and corn. 

In 1984 Walboi now back a: Stanford as 
a orofesso' of b ology heard about a new 
approach thai Harvard biologist Hunting- 
ton Potter had used to successfully im- 
plant new genolic malera into animal eel's. 
Calleo elec'.roporation, the new technique 
used an electric field to "punch holes" in 
cell membranes, through which new DNA 
could be inserted, in Wa-oot's Stanford lab 
postdoctoral student Mike Fromm built a 
homemade elect 1 oooralion device. "It was 
a bunch of wires on a piece ol plywood 
with an old-fashiorod kri-e swtch," Walbot 
recalls. "It looked like a high-school sci- 
ence project," 

But it worked. Within a month Walbot's 
team had suecoss'ully :nserted new DMA 
into the cells of carrots, then of corn. "It 
was a clear breakthrough," Walbot says. 
"In fact, it was the most clear-cut case I'd 
ever been involved in where one day noth- 
ing was possible, and the next day every- 
thing was possible." 

Even so, no one knows better than Wal- 
bot just how much work remains. "The next 
round," she says, "will be tougher because 
we'll be working with traits that are de- 
pendent on more lhar ere gene. " The room 
for error and fall. re increases dramatical y 
with this sort o" genetic manipulation. 

Eventually Walbot's work could herald 
what some are a r eady caning a new green 
revolution. Walbot thinks that eiectropora- 
tion will ultimately be used to help create 
plants lhat are bigger, heartier, more re- 
sistant, and even custom-tailored to par- 
ticular rmicroenvirormcnls. She is trying to 
design rice and corn varieties that resist 
cold: other scientists are creating herbi- 
cide-resistant strains and plants geneti- 
cally altered to produce their own natural 
pesticides. For the future, researchers are 
talking about inserting cactus genes into 
wheat or soybeans to create plants that 
need less water. Walbot even envisions 
"scheduled strawberries." plants that have 
been genetically altered to fruit at a spe- 
cific time. This would allow a larmer to "plant 
a field and know that the fruit would be 
ready to pick on a given day, " 

Before hose possibilities can be real- 
ized, though, the new revolution will have 
to be fought on a battleground more polit- 
ical than scientific. Citing as yet undeter- 
mined .risks and dangers, critics like Jer- 
emy Rifkin have tried lo promote legislation 
and court decisions that will stop the out- 
door testing of just the kind of genetically 
altered organisms that Walbot envisions. 
This makes Walbot, who sees little risk in 



A blind man, an invalid in a 
Hawaiian shirt, and a 
nun with a red guitar case find 
solace at 45,000 feet 


CLOUD. From horizon to horizon 
the sky thai could be seen 
irom the departure lounge was 
a uniform, luminous gray. It 
gleamed like a whale lifted out of the 
water— one dark, undifferentiated 
glistening that followed a curve 
too vast for apprehension. 

The 747's that trundled along the 
runways to lift off and vanish into 
this continuum of cloud were ol an 
only slightly darker and less luminous 
gray. The flight attendants wore 
uniforms of a rather steely gray 
trimmed, like the planes on which 
they served, with red and blue piping. 
The two nuns who had been waiting 
in the lounge since seven a m wore 
identical habits of charcoal gray, with 
black veils draped from high, white 
wimples. The men in business suits — 
who constituted a majority of fhe 
passengers— had chosen, almost to 
a man, to wear gray that day. follow- 
ing, it may be, the suggestion of 
the weather. Even the younger men 
had supplemented their denim 
uniforms with gray accessories— a 
gray sweatshirt, a gray cowboy 
hat, a gray knapsack. 

In the face ol such consensus the 
few concentrations of bright color 
in the lounge took on the force ol wild 

immodesty Sister Incarnation's red 
guitar case fit had cost twenty dollars 
less fhan the identical case in black]; 
the Hawaiian shirt of the young man in 
tine wheelchair; the screaming green 
pantsuit of the woman reading How 
to Prosper During the Coming Bad 
Vears; the lemon-yellow cat basket 
handcuffed to the wrist of one of 
the gray-suited men. 

The flight was announced, and the 
passengers boarded according to 
their seclions. The four junior flight 
attendants performed their preflight 
pantomime demonstrating the use 
of the oxygen masks and seat- 
bell buckles, as the senior attendant. 
Amanda Conklin, chanted the words 
of this rite into the PA. system. The 
pilot, Malcolm Jay, announced their 
destination and estimated time of 
arrival. Then, as they waited for 
clearance, the Muzak hummed a 
medley ol resolutely upbeat tunes. 

Sister Incarnation— she of the red 
guitar case — made a snide remark 
about the Muzak, and Sister Fidelis, 
silting beside her in the window 
seat, pointed out the element of 
arrogance in her remark. Sister 
Fidelis's conscience was always on 
patrol. Duly chastened (for she 
had been uncharitable]. Sister Incar- 
nation began a rosary. 

The plane taxied to the end of the run- 
way. The flight attendants made a final 
passage up and down ihe aisles to see 
that everyone's chair was in the upright po- 
sition with the seat belt fastened. The en- 
gines fired, and the plane rolled forward, 
bouncing and shuddering. The woman in 
the green pantsuit, Mrs. Judi Schweers, 
lowered the plastic eyelid of the window 
beside her and stared resolutely at the 
temporarily meaningless print on the page. 

The plane tilted upward. They were off 
the ground. Sister Incarnation leaned 
across Sister Fidelis's lap to look at the 
swiftly broadening view — the gray, four- 
square strips of the airport's concrete, the 
long ribbons of highway, a patchwork of 
suburban rooftops and lawns, and then, 
quite suddenly, nothing at all. They had en- 
tered the cloud. Sister Incarnation leaned 
back in her seat with a sigh. 

The woman in the green pantsuit raised 
the blind from the window and returned to 
a consideration of real-estate values in a 
period of double-digit inflation. The flight 
attendants began to distribute earphones. 

Barry Anderson could almost feel the first 
squirt of adrenaline entering his system as 
he flicked the toggle up and down by way 
of proving to Malcolm Jay, the pilot, that the 
radio was indeed dead. Likewise the ra- 
dar, the altimeter, and any instrument that 
monitored the plane's external environ- 
ment rather than its internal functions. 

Barry's airline spent large sums making 
inventories of the psychological traits of its 
personnel in an effort to hire as pilots and 
copilots men of absolutely no imagination, 
men who could be counted on not to panic 
in situations such as this, which mosl peo- 
ple would characterize as impossible. Bar- 
ry's first reaction was a tribute to that se- 
lection process. 

"I think the difficulty must have some- 
thing to do with this cloud we're in," he said 
in a tone of unconfoundable calm. The 
added adrenaline had no effect but to 
sharpen his motor responses. 

"Yeah, but Jesus, the radar!" Malcolm 
said, beginning to whine. Malcolm, despite 
as good a test profile as Barry, was already 
rattled. "How do you explain that?" 

Barry offered no explanation beyond a 
precision shrug. "We'll jusf have to keep 
climbing. Then, when we're over this 
damned cloud . . ." 

As they climbed, Barry calculated on his 
wrist computer their probable altitude. 
Given the slope of ascent, the time elapsed, 
and the speed (which he estimated, based 
on the engines' thrust), Barry arrived at a 
probable altitude of forty-five thousand feet. 
Malcolm checked the figures and found 
nothing wrong with them, yet it was quite 
impossible that they should still be envel- 
oped in such a thickness of cloud at this 
altitude. Even the highest cirrus seldom 
formed above forty thousand feet. 

"We'd better stop climbing," said Barry. , 

'And just keep heading . , . where?" 

"The way we're headed. Do you have any 

44 OMNI 

other suggestions?" Malcolm didn't. 

"It'll have to clear eventually." 

Malcolm nodded. Like a person de- 
prived of sensory inputs, his mind began 
to produce reveries of a somewhat inap- 
propriate nature. He remembered a flight 
attendant he had made out with during a 
layover in Phoenix. In the cockpit of this 
very plane. He could remember her large, 
white, billowy breasts drooping down over 
the tan of her rib cage, the firmness of her 
thighs, the coolness of her hands, the tick- 
ling of sharp fingernails. 

"This is some strange weather," said 
Andy Dreer, pressing his nose to the small 
window beside him. The window was dot- 
ted with smudges left by earlier observa- 
tions. "Mm," said the man in the aisle seat, 
who was reading the airline's bound edi- 
tion of Business Week. 

Andy figured there was no use continu- 
ing ihe conversation. There was more than 
a seat between them — there was a gen- 

<mThere was 
a change in the pitch of the 

engines' low 
. organ tones, a diminution of 

thrust, as 
though the 747 were slowing 

down, like a ship 
plowing through heavy seas.T> 

eration, and it wasn't about to be spanned. 

But it was undoubtedly very strange 
weather, and while Andy trusted implicitly 
in airplanes, he couldn't help feeling edgy. 
They'd been climbing for how long al- 
ready? And still were, and still hadn't come 
out of the clouds. 

The seat-belt sign was still on, but oth- 
erwise nothing seemed out of the ordinary. 
People in the back rows were smoking. The 
attendants were readying a trolley of cof- 
fee and drinks. 

He felt the weight of his body shifting. 
The plane was"-leveling off. They were still 
in the clouds, though. It was strange. 

He dug into his knapsack for a book. 
Reading was the second best way Andy 
knew to gel his mind off reality, even if all 
he had to read was the textbook for classic 
civilization. Midterms were Tuesday, and so 
far he hadn't cracked a book. Classic civ 
was reputed to be a Mickey Mouse course, 
with test questions like "Zeus, the lather of 
the gods, dwell on Mount (Blank)," or 'Ar- 
istophanes ruled Athens from 410 to 385 
B.C. (True or False)." There were advan- 
tages in attending a junior college in Flor- 
ida, though the degree was not one of them. 

The ambience, however, was compatible, 
and you never had to wait for a court. Not 
that Andy exerted himself excessively in 
the direction of tennis. Life, he tended to 
believe, was but a dream, so who needed 
to bust his balls rowing? 

The plane lurched. , 

Dr. Tumi smiled, imagining the sudden 
consternation among the arrows support- 
ing the wings of the plane as it hit the pocket 
of turbulence. It lurched again, and he 
frowned. There was a change in the pitch 
of the engines' low organ tones, a diminu- 
tion of thrust, as though the 747 were slow- 
ing down, like a ship plowing through heavy 
seas. It occurred to Dr. Tumi that he, to- 
gether with the other twenty-odd passen- 
gers on the plane, was about to die. Planes 
are not dirigibles; they cannot simply grind 
to a halt and hang suspended. He'd often 
wondered how he would respond to the 
threat, or the certainty, of death and felt 
rather pleased with himself that he was 
taking it so calmly. If his fellow passengers 
should begin to panic (and why weren't 
they doing so already?), he might not be 
able to maintain this exemplary serenity, 
but for the moment Epictetus himself could 
not have been more stoic. 

"Mrs. Vow?" 


"Did you feel an unusual sensation just 

"In what sense unusual?" 

"Proprioceptively," replied Dr. Tumi, with 
a literal exactitude he knew Mrs. Vow found 
annoying. After a pause to consult her own 
sensations, she answered, "We've stopped 
climbing and seem to have leveled off. The 
no smoking light is off, but the fasten seat 
belt light is still on." 

"What can you see out the window?" 

"We're still in the thick of the clouds, and 
that's odd. Usually one climbs above them. 
It's the loveliest part of flying, to my mind — 
looking down over those landscapes of 
clouds. They seem so solid. One under- 
stands how the Greeks might suppose their 
gods could live on top of them." 

"I always fancied one would bounce 
about a greai deal if one walked on clouds." 

"On Tiepolo's clouds, possibly," said Mrs. 
Vow, "but not on Georgia O'Keeffe's." 

For a while they discussed the relative 
merits of the cloudscapes of their favorite 
painters. After epistemology, chess, and 
medieval scientific theories, art history was 
Dr. Tumi's favorite recreational pastime. 
Mrs. Vow had done a year of postgraduate 
work at the Warburg Institute and knew how 
to describe a painting in Ihe most minute 
particulars while simultaneously evoking its 
numinous, unnameablewhat's-it-ness. Be- 
fore his blindness Dr. Tumi had not taken 
much interest in painting, but now that all 
art had become conceptual to him, he had 
become a great attendee of galleries and 
museums. His favorite paniers were Held, 
Stella, and Hodgkins, none of whose work 
he'd ever seen. He had even, in a moment 
of extravagance, bought a Hodgkins. Mrs. 

Vow favored more painterly painters — De 
Kooning, Johns, Diebenkorn. The wonder- 
ful thing aboul their discussions on art was 
that she never pulled rank on him, never 
suggested that if he could see the painting 
in question, he would bo of another opinion 
as to its merits. A saint, no doubt of it; Mrs. 
Vow was a saint. 

The captain's voice boomed out over the 
speakers, interrupling all conversations. He 
asked the passengers to remain in their 
seals with their seat belts fastened. The 
plane was encountering turbulence, but this 
was a common occurrence, and there was 
no.need to be alarmed. 

"He does sound alarmed, though, 
doesn't he?" Mrs. Vow observed. 
. "Mm," said Dr. Tumi. 

The cabin tilted forward and to the right, 
shuddered — as though it were fighting 
against the tilt — then lurched to the left, but 
withoul altering its downward inclination. 

"I think we're going to crash, Mrs. Vow. 
Please hold my hand." 

A sudden babble of voices expressed 
correlative forebodings Several passen- 
gers summoned the flight attendants, but 
no one went so far as to scream — as 
though to have done so would have pro- 
voked the plane to more dire behavior. 

Mrs. Vow exerted a sleady, steadying 
force on his hand. Behind the obscuring 
confusion of voices in Ihe cabin, the whine 
of Ihe engines seemed to diminish to a 
rumble, a purr, a whisper. When ihe en- 

gines ceased altogether ;he cabin fell si- 
lent, too, as ihough the same irrational in- 
tuition had simultaneously occurred to each 
passenger— that ihey were not about to 
crash (there was no sense of forward mo- 
mentum) but were instead (and quite im- 
possibly) becalmed. Slowly, in utter si- 
lence, Ihe cabin righted itself, as though it 
were a ship riding a long swell. 

"Can you see anything from the win- 
dows?" Dr. Tumi whispered. 

"Nothing," said Mrs. Vow. "Clouds." 

"Do you know, I wish someone would 
scream. This is unnatural." 

"No, Doctor, there ! draw the line. I don't 
believe I have ever in my whole life 
screamed. Not as an adult, in public. And 
don't you scream either. If we're all to die, 
lei's try to do so with some dignify." 

"We don't seem about lo die, however. 
It's very strange." 

"If is very strange," Mrs. Vow agreed, in 
her most disapproving tone. She seemed 
to hold Dr. Tumi responsible for what was 
happening. She let go of his hand. "Ex- 
cuse me, but I must go to the toilet." 

Until the first dewlike droplets lormed on 
the beige plastic louvers of the ventilator 
above Mrs. Schweers, grew to teardrop 
size, and dripped onto Ihe open pages of 
How to Prosper During Ihe Coming Bad 
Years, no one in Ihe plane had noticed — 
or at least thought to comment on — the very 
muggy •atmosphere within the cabin. The 

larger oddness of fhr? seeming suspen- 
sion of the laws of aerodynamics had 
blinded them all lo the smaller oddity of the 
suddenly so much higher humidity. 

"What in heaven's name is happening?" 
Mrs. Schweere den landed, holding out the 
spattered pages of her book in evidence 
to the gentleman across Ihe aisle. "Why is 
the air blower leaking?" 

In the seat behind Mrs. Schweers, Sister 
Incarnation looked up at Ihe ventilator and 
saw that there were indeed droplets of 
condensation upon its louvers — and upon 
the ventilator above Sister Fidelis as well. 
Already enough moisture had fallen to the 
lap of Ihe sleeping nun that her habit was 
speckled regularly with polka dots of 
dampness. The extent of this precipitation 
did not really amount to a "leak," but that 
there should be any ai all was unsettling. 
Why would a ventilator ever drip water? 
Sister Incarnation had taught general sci- 
ence to legions of fourih and tifth graders, 
bul her sense of the workaday applica- 
tions of the principles she taught in general 
science was rather scrappy. She seemed 
io recall that condensation had something 
to do with rapid cooling, and that ac- 
counted for air conditioners so often drool- 
ing in a similar way. 

'Amanda!" Mrs. Schweers called out 
volubly, using the name by which the se- 
nior flight attendant had introduced herself 
at the beginning of the takeoff recitation. 
"Amanda, will you come here, please?" 
" Reluctantly {for she'd been grateful for 
the pilot's instruction to stay seated till ihe 
plane's difficulties had been sorted out; she 
was feeling weird y groggy) Amanda 
Conklin unbuckled he< seal bolt and made 
her way up the aisle to Mrs. Schweers's 
bulkhead seal. "What seems to be Ihe 
matter, ma'am?" she asked, leaning down 
and fixing her eyes noncommittally on the 
woman's garish pantsuit. Mrs. Schweers 
had not properly begun to express her 
sense of being owed an explanation be- 
fore her individual alarm became general. 
From each of Ihe voniiiators above each of 
the seats billows of fog issued into the 
cabin, opaquely white and quiic coherent 
in shape, like ihoughi bal eons in a comic 
strip. There was a general outcry among 
the passengers, followed by a certain 
amount of milling aboul in the aisles. The 
plane responded as though t were a light- 
ballasted boat, tilting, and righting itself as 
the passengers shifted position. 

Sister Incarnalioa joggled the shoulder 
of her sleeping companion. "Sister Fidelis, 
I think you had better wake up." 

The joggle did not suffice. Sister Incar- 
nation poked, but still Sister Fidelis could 
not be roused. "Sister Fidelis? You must 
wake up, Sister! Please!" 

The nun's head slumped ~.o the side. Sis- 
ter Incarnation could hear a far-off rumble 
ot a snore, faint as Ihe signal of a radio 
sfaiion at the threshold of receivability. 

David Woody had remained in his seat 
during the first outbreak of panic, not so 

much because he was handcuffed to the 
travel basket of His Nibs, a celebrity cat 
insured for two million dollars. His Nibs, 
after starring in two feature films in which ' 
he had played a feline detective, had gone 
on to earn even bigger bucks as Dyna- 
Food Corporation's answer to the late and 
much-lamented (though not by Dyna-Food) 
Morris. Usually David oldn't mind acting as 
the manager of an ill-tempered, profes- 
sional cat. Only at times like this did he feel 
resenttul toward His Nibs, times when 
people would give him odd looks and he 
could not explain to them that he was 
handcuffed to a cat basket for entirely 
above board, monetary reasons, not be- 
cause he was some kind of kook. 

"May I have your attention, everybody?" 

David gave his attention to the Ha- 
waiian-shiried paraplegic, who had strug- 
gled up to support himself on the armrest 
of his aisle seat and was waving an alu- 
minum crutch over his head to get atten- 
tion. "Please!" he insisted, when David 
alone of the five other first-class passen- 
gers afforded him more than a glance. 
"There is something strange happening in 
this airplane and we are not being in- 
formed about it. I suggest — will you all 
please listen to me! — I suggest that a del- 
egation be sent forward to the cockpit to 
demand an explanation Irom our pilot," 

Amanda Cooklio skodo briskly down the 
aisle toward the troublemaker. "Sir, if you 
would kindly return to your seal." With a , 
nurse's unthinking intimacy she placed her 
hands in the young cripple's armpits and 
lowered him back into his seat. His crutch 
overturned a tumbler of glistening ice 
cubes. "You can be sure that Captain Jay 
will be making a general announcement as 
soon as the situation war ranis it," she went 
on as, down on one knee, she scooped the 
ice cubes back into the tumbler. "In the 
meantime we must all try to keep our wits 
. about us and stay seated. Any unneces- 
sary movement may be — " she stopped 
herself from saying dangerous; her duty 
was to promote a sense of calm and order 
" — upsetting to your fellow passengers. 
Now, if you do feel the need to share your 
concern with someone else, that's under- 
standable. I'm sure this gentleman — " she 
made eye contact with David, who with the 
very slightest shake of his head tried to nix 
her matchmaking. Amanda smiled com- 
plicitously " — or this gentleman — " she in- 
dicated an older man across the aisle who 
was staring strickenly at the crossword 
puzzle in the airline magazine " — would 
have no objection to coming and silting 
beside you for a lew minutes." 

"I'll sit by myself," said the paraplegic, 
"thank you very much." 

Amanda walked back to David's seat 
and stopped. "What a beautiful cat," she 
said. "Is it a Persian?" 

David looked where Amanda was look- 
ing, at the vacant window seal beside him, 
which was no longer vacant. His Nibs had 
somehow gotten out of his oasket and was 
snoozing contentedly on the folded jacket 

of David's g r ay suil. I low could he have 
gotten loose? 

Then he realized — and in the same in- 
stant Amanda realized as well— that the cat 
on the seat beside him was not His Nibs 
{who was a tawny, almost gingery torn, not 
this shimmery, hoarfrasted shade of sil- 
ver), This was not, in fact, any kind of cat 
at all. It was Amanda who proved herself 
the braver, -for she reached down and 
touched the simulated cat, which instantly 
dispersed info iendulso: vapor that so lee 
over the edge oi the seat I ke water spilling 
from the basin of a fountain. 

Amanda's outcry and subsequent emo- 
tional collapse went unremarked outside 
the first-class cabin, for another and much 
stranger happening had absorbed the at- 
tention of the tourist-class passengers — 
except Dr. Tumi, the one passenger most 
directly affected. Even he, however, real- 
ized that there was something in the air. 

What was quite literally in the air was the 
seated, slightly slumped body of Mrs. Vow. 
She hung, like a Dali Maconna, iust before 
the door of the bathroom that she'd en- 
tered some minutes earlier, at about the 
height of someone sealed on the fourth 
rung of a ladder. Her dress was hitched up 
and her panty hose pushed down, just as 
they might have been had she been soared 
on a toilet instead of, as how, being sus- 
pended in midair without visible means of 
support. Like the simulated tomcat in the 
first-class cabin, this spectral Mrs. Vow had 
been reproduced in monochromic black 
and white, but unlike the vanished cat she 
did not revert to mere wisps of vapor upon 
being touched (tentatively, by Andy Dreer, 
who'd been waiting to be next inside). 
Rather, a kind of ripple passed through her 
image, as though it were a reflection (albeit 
three-dimensional) in a pool of water that 
had been disturbed by the first scaflered 
raindrops of an impending storm. 

"Holy torpedo," said Andy Dreer, with 
unfeigned reverence. "Did you see that?" 

Clearly, many of the other passengers 
had seen it — were seeing it still — but none 
wished to discuss their perceptions with 
Andy. They sat staring at the wraith of Mrs. 
Vow with the entranced, furtive expres- 
sions of hotel guests woo have tuned in to 
a pornographic television channel by ac- 
cideoi ard find ihemselves unable to tune 
away. It was Andy who made the connec- 
tion between ine image suspended in the 
air of the cabin sod ".he woman who'd gone 
into the bathroom ahead of him. He steeled 
himself against the dread of violating a ta- 
boo so publicly — and knocked on the 
locked door of the toilet. "Ma'am? Are you 
in there? Ma'am, can you hear me?" When 
there was no response, he knocked more 
forcefully and called out more loudly: "Hey, 
is everything all right in there?" 
. Maynard Ellis, who had been sneaking 
a cigarette at the back of the cabin and 
lecturing himself on the importance of not 
panicking (especially as he was the only 
black and the only male among the flight 


Why give 

the common, 

when you can give 

the preferred. 











d J I W Id J WiVi 


The maicrials are the most fragile imag- 
inable: air, water, and a flexible but deli- 
cate skin whose thickness is measured 
in molecules. Together these substances 
compose the bubble, an object that has 
delighted children and mys'iified scien- 
tists for centuries. With a little applied 
physics, scientists now know what a bub- 
ble is and even whal transformations it 
could undergo in another dimension. 

They know, for example. Ihal the skin 
of a bubble is a molecule-thin layer of 
water trapped between an inner and outer 
membrane ot soap film. The film's elas- 
ticity is what allows a bubble fo be shaped 
like the giant creation at lell or filled with 
gas (smoke or air. above) lor dramatic 
effect. Bubbles demonstrate the won- 
derful economy of nature, as Ihey always 
conlracl to the smallest possible volume. 






















■ ' 

In our three-dimensional world, the 
standard bubble is an iridescent sphere. 
In other dimensions, mathematicians say. 
stranger configurations might be the 
norm. One who has been endlessly fas- 
cinated with the subject is eighty-seven- 
year-old Eiffel Plasterer For the past 55 
years his frail creations — from great. 
shimmering bubble snakes (opposite) to 
delicate little rainbow-hued boxes 

(above) — have stretched the limits o' the 
science. (He once designed a thick- 
skinned bubble thai lasted 340 days.) 

Mathematicians now believe that if a 
series ol bubbles were blown in the fourth 
dimension and lormed bubble colonies, 
the result would no! be spheroid crea- 
tions but unique, pleasing geometries like 
the cube and the tetrahedron within a tet- 
rahedron above. — Scot Morris DO 


old. This year he retired from his teachrng 
post, but he continues to spend his days 
at work in the univcrs ty's aboratory. When 
and if Ulysses lifts off as currently sched- 
uled, he'll be seventy-three. "It's been a se- 
ries of frustrating efforts," he says. "The 
emotional slrai'i has beer quite high." 

Whatever Ulysses' fate, Simpson's rep- 
utation is already secure: He has devised 
and flown dozens of experiments on 
spacecraft over the years, including an in- 
strument on the Soviets' recent Halley's 
comet rendezvous. What worries him is the 
fate of the currerl gcncraf'on of young re- 
searchers in high-energy astrophysics, 
scientists who will never have the same 
opportunities that he had. He remembers 
the day when young researchers wrote 
one-page proposals and had their experi- 
ments buill and launched on small rockets 
within the year. Now he speaks of a "lost 
generation" of space scientists, Ph.D.'s 
without the same opportunities to explore 
their field. "How can we encourage young 
people lo work with us when there are no 
flight opporlunilios?' Simpson asks. 

A typical case is Glenn Mason, He 
stopped waiting for Ulysses six years ago. 
That was when NASA's vehicle was 
scrapped, along with Mason's energetic- 

par'icle detector 'it was pre-ty devastat- 
ing." says Mason, now a lor ty-four-y ear-old 
associate professor ol physics a! the Uni- 
versity' of Maryland. "You'd spent a couple 
of years working very hard on something, 
and you had very i-tle to show for it," Two 
years wasted is a lerrible loss for anyone, 
he says, but it's worse when you're still an 
untenured researcher frying to establish a 
reputation. "When you look at the time it 
lakes to accomplish anything with a NASA 
program, you really have to love whal you 
are doing lo (noose thai path," he says. 

Today the Uiysses scientists lay much of 
the blame tor their plight on NASA's ill-fated 
shuttle-u6er-a//es -policy, a fickle Con- 
gress, and a general lack of interest in in- 
novative space science. But some of the 
problems of Losses are the unavoidable 
result of big science getting bigger and 
shouldering iillle science aside. The space 
telescope, lo cile one example, costs S1.4 
billion, about six times the cost of Ulysses. 
Just storing the space telescope while it 
waits for a shuttle berth runs to $7 million 
a month, a sum that in the Sixties would 
have paid for Iwo orbital missions. 

Moreover, big. money gu ping hard- 
ware-oriented programs ike the space 
station mean ;obs for thousands of engi- 
neers and support workers on Ihe ground, 
whereas a small, specialized science mis- 
sion like Ulysses provides few jobs, gen- 
erates NMIe public excitement, and has no 

commercial potential. It's pure science — 
knowledge for the sake of knowledge. 

Meanwhile John Simpson, calm if not 
cheerful, waits for his launch date, biding 
his time. These days he recalls thai in 
Dante's Inferno, Ulysses (the hero) ex- 
horted Ins men; 

" Brothers,' said I. 'that have come val- 

Through hundred thousand jeopardies 
To reach the West, you will not now deny 
To this las; lihle vigil ell lorun 
Of feeling life. Ihe now experience 
Ol Ihe uninhabiled world behind the 
sun.' "' 

"The irony is that when we named the 
project," says Simpson, "we never realized 
we were all going lo be suffering the way 
Ulysses did." 


Available in bookstores everywhere is 
The Omni Space Almanac by Omni con- 
tributor Neil McAleei 11 is a complete his- 
tory of space and a catalog of what we can 
expect to see in space sxn oration lor Ihe 
remainder of this century and in the cen- 
tury to come. Astronaut Michael Collins 
calls the almanac a "masterful job and Ihe 
most comprchens ve booK ic date" on Ihe 
space program. Price: $24.95. It is pub- 
lished by World Almanac, 200 Park Ave- 
nue, New York, NY 10166 DO 

56 OMNI 



one admires the strong lines of I 
e the skin and muscle of his chest and 
. Usinq a small electric saw, they 

There is surprisingly 


little blood, but there's a certain amount of 
disarray in the operating room (O.R.) when 
as many as eight doctors have their hands 
and arms inside the cadaver, working 
quickly to disconnect the organs from their 
many vessels. 

Rib cage and thoracic cavity are splayed 
open and viscera held back with metal re- 
tractors known as iron interns. The organs 
reveal a marvelous power, as when some- 
one lifts the hood of a fine car and sees the 
frictionless workings of a precision-tuned 
engine. This engine is awesome — glisten- 
ing, organic, wet. Aesthetically the iiver is 
most pleasing, resembling some lustrous 
sea creature, smooth and supple with 
sharply defined edges. But a surgical er- 
ror contaminates it. As a result the liver loses 
its silkiness and definition, turning from 
coral pink to meat-market purple. The sur- 
geons push the organ aside and, strug- 
gling with their disappointment, proceed. 

After another hour the kidneys, bean 
shapes that fit heftily in the surgeon's palm, 
are lifted out with ureters still attached. 

R.H.'s heart suddenly begins an agitat- 
ed dance, speeding from 100 to 200 beats 
a minute. The surgeons, alarmed, quiet it 
with a jolt of electricity from defibrillating 
paddles. Two hours later it too is removed 
and slipped into a stainless-steel bowl full 
of saline solution. 

As soon as each organ comes out, it is 
carefully packed in an Igloo Playmate full 
of dry ice and rushed to a waiting helicop- 
ter for delivery to a distant transplant team. 
Finally, after the major organs are removed 
a blond-haired surgeon from New York's 
Columbia Presbyterian Medical Center, his 
eyes rimmed by dark circles, tells the 
anesthetist to disconnect the I.V.'s and turn 
off the respirator. 

A week earlier an aneurysm had rup- 
tured in R.H.'s brain, virtually ripping apart 
his cerebrum. Following clinical tests and 
an electroencephalogram (EEG), physi- 
cians at Good Samaritan Hospital in Suf- 
fern, New York, declared him brain dead. 
It was his birthday; he was, or would have 
been, forty-two. 

As I stood at his bedside in the intensive 
care unit (ICU) earlier that day, two per- 
ceptions fought in my mind. First, how could 
he be dead? He looked so full of life. There 
wasn't a mark on him. His thick, light-brown 
hair was tousled, as if he'd just come in 
from a basketball game with the guys. His 
carotid artery pulsed with blood; his heart 
rate was nearly normal. The urine bag at 
the side of the bed filled regularly and was 
replaced. And secondly, an intellectual 
observation; He was obviously very dead. 
The blood, oxygen, and nutrients perfus- 
ing his body were all driven by the ma- 
chines surrounding him. 

There was something else, a more sub- 
liminal confirmation, subtle cues signaling 
that no one — no spirit? — was there. Lifting 
his arm, which was just slightly cool, I felt 
only a flaccid, lifeless weight. 

And yet ... I wanted to whisper, so as 
not to wake him. 
so OMNI 

R.H. is a late-twentieth-century corpse, 
one of a new class of dead people created 
by medical technology. The "beating-heart 
cadavers," or neo-morts, as these dead are 
sometimes called, have cells, tissues, or- 
gans, and organ systems that can be kept 
alive several days by elaborate life-sup- 
port systems long after their brains have 
ceased functioning. 

I first began to realize that the big sleep 
was no longer a simple state when I was 
researching material on the future of death 
for a book edited by Arthur C. Clarke. In 
the midst of scenarios about holographic 
mausoleums and near-death-experience 
cults, I found that the future, as they say, is 
already with us. 

Since history's beginnings, the classical 
sign of death was when heart and lungs 
stopped. "Brain death" is only about 20 
years old, the offspring of the ICU and its 
advanced life-support technologies. Even 
as we struggle with brain death, the con- 
cept is being modified, Bioethicists and 

^There was 
something else, a more 


confirmation signaling 

that no one — no 

spirit? — was there. Lifting 

his arm, I felt only 
a flaccid, lifeless weight.^ 

members of the medical profession think 
the definition of death should encompass 
not only those who haveno brain functions 
(the brain dead) but also those who have 
lost consciousness (the cognitive dead), 
"lost souls" who linger mindlessly in what 
are called persistent vegetative states. So- 
ciety has to confront again some basic 
philosophical questions: what it means to 
be alive; to be a person; to have a mind. 
Before attempting to address those is- 
sues, here is a brief neo-death lexicon. 

• Brain dear/),. Very simply, this describes 
a state in which no part of the brain func- 
tions. Once a person is brain dead, he is 
dead, period. His body can be maintained 
artificially on a respirator only hours or, at 
most, several days until cardiac arrest. 

• Persistent vegetative state. In brain death 
the whole brain is destroyed; in a persis- 
tent vegetative state, only part of the brain 
is destroyed. The brain stem, a primitive 
region that connects the brain to the spinal 
cord, is Usually intact or mostly intact. A 
person with his. brain stem intact is capa- 
ble of stereotypical reflex functions- 
breathing, siceping, digeslmg food— but 
he will be incapable of thought or even of 

any awareness of the world around him. A 
person can remain in this state for years. 
■ Cognitive death. A number of bioethi- 
cists, philosophers, and fvl.D.'s are begin- 
ning to contemplate expanding the defini- 
tion of death to include people in persistent 
vegetative states, individuals who have lost 
their intellect, memory, speech, and 
awareness of self or environment. 

When I started my new-death investi- 
gation, an M.D. friend said, "You've got to 
talk to Julie Korein; he wrote the book on 
brain death." Julius Korein is professor of 
neurology at New York University School 
of Medicine, chief of Bellevue Hospital's 
EEG lab, and chairman of the biomedical 
ethics committee at Bellevue. A kind of 
tough guy with a spiky, intense personality, 
he moves and talks in swift bursts of en- 
ergy. At first Korein seemed annoyed, even 
suspicious, at being interviewed. "Frankly, 
I'm sick to death of death," he announced 
when I first met him. Soon, though, he was 
supplying books, papers, and his time. 
Korein is currently investigating the "be- 
ginning of brain life" in the fetus. Going full 
circle, as it were. 

"There is-no moment of death," he says. 
The moment of death is a legal construct 
for matter of probate. As an example, Ko- 
rein cites a famous case of a husband and 
wife who were killed when their car was hit 
by a train, The body of one was crushed 
completely on impact; the other, decapi- 
tated. For the will, it was necessary to as- 
certain which one died first. The lawyers 
argued that it was the crushed spouse. As 
long as the other's head was spewing 
blood from the neck, it was deemed "alive." 
But even concerning the obliterated 
woman, Korein goes on, "you can say, well, 
there were fractions of seconds before the 
whole person broke down and she died. 
So maybe the moment of death was iifty 
nanoseconds later. 

"Look at cardiovascular death. The heart 
stops. The doctor listens to the chest. Was 
that the moment ot death? With modern 
equipment, you can detect signs of elec- 
trical activity in the heart forty minutes after 
it has stopped beating. The moment of 
death is fiction." 

I persist. Many people would say the 
moment of death is when the soul leaves 
the body "When does that happen?" Ko- 
rein attacks the idea. "Let's assume there's 
a soul. When does it exit? When the heart 
stops? When the brain stops? Wnen the 
reticular formation, the brain's arousal sys- 
tem, stops? Does it exit all at once, an in- 
stantaneous thing, or gradually? If gradu- 
ally, then there's no moment of death!" 

In 1975 Korein was the oxperi witness in 
the Karen Ann Quinlan trial, in which the 
family sued to have the hfe-support system 
removed from the young woman. It was his 
testimony more than anything else that 
brought about a ruling in favor of the fam- 
ily—that Quinlan, suffering permanent loss 
of higher brain functions, could be re- 
moved from the respirator. Quinlan had 
become comatose after ingesting a mix- 

ture of drugs and alcohol at a party. 

During the trial one common miscon- 
ception was that Quinlan was brain dead. 
"She was never brain dead." Korein is irri- 
tated. "At that time and even today, people 
talk about her as brain dead. But she never 
met the criteria." One of the criteria speci- 
fies that the brain stem no longer functions. 
There is no brain death without brain stem 
death, and in adulis, brain stem death 
means that cardiac death inexorably fol- 
lows within hours or days. Quinlan always 
had brain stem function. 

The brain stem is the keystone of the 
central nervous system (CNS), the direct 
hookup to the spinal cord on one end and 
the cortex on the other. "It is in every sense 
the ultimate site of 'Life's Little Candle,'" 
says The Human Brain Coloring Book. Al- 
though it makes up only one tenth of the 
CNS, it controls the activities basic lo exis- 
tence: the autonomic — vegetative — func- 
tions. Destroy the brain stem, and you 
abandon all hope of survival. 

Korein was on the stand more than four 
hours. As a witness he had to instruct the 
courtroom in the workings and malfunc- 
tions of the entire brain. He told them Quin- 
lan was not brain dead. She had EEG ac- 
tivity in spite ot massive damage to her 
cerebral hemispheres. And, he testified, 
she might breathe spontaneously off the 
respirator. And as the world knows, she 
continued breathing. Until her death from 
infection nine years later, she remained 

tethered to the life-supporting nutrition— 
hydration tube. 

Soon after the Quinlan trial, Korein 
chaired an international conference to dis- 
cuss research on brain death that had been 
ongoing from the late Sixties. And from that 
conference came the book Brain Death: 
Interrelated Medical and Social Issues. 
That text helped lift the fog of confusion 
enveloping doctors whd were diagnosing 
the states of respirator-maintained pa- 
tients. The book defined brain death clearly 
The criteria included total unresponsive- 
ness and lack of movement; no brain stem 
reflexes (having fixed, dilated pupils, for 
example); and inability to breathe without 
a respirator. For confirmation, many neu- 
rological tests were also encouraged, to 
exclude the possibility of drug intoxication 
or hypothermia, conditions that can mimic 
brain death. Always there was the overrid- 
ing rule: It is permissible to err only on the 
side of diagnosing a dead brain as alive. 

In 1981, largely because of the work of 
Korein and many other neurologists, the 
President's Commission for the Study of 
Ethical Problems in Medicine and Biomed- 
ical and Behavioral Science proposed as 
statute the Uniform Determination of Death 
Act. which reads: 'An individual who has 
sustained either (1) irreversible cessation 
of circulatory and respiratory functions, or 
(2) irreversible cessation of all functions of 
the brain, including brain stem, is dead." 
The act is law in 39 states and pending in 

others. Using the established criteria, no 
one properly diagnosed as brain dead has 
ever regained any brain function. 

With the idea of brain death fairly clear 
in my mind, the next concentric circle of 
this kingdom of living dead to explore was 
the world of the irreversibly unconscious, 
the realm of the vegetative. 

Unlike the brain dead, the vegetative 
have a functional brain stem. At the core of 
the upper brain stem is the system of nerve 
cells and fibers called the ascending retic- 
ular formation, a Y-shaped structure that 
serves as a two-way street to and from the 
cortex. It adjusts all incoming and outgo- 
ing commands from both cerebral hemi- 
spheres. The reticular formation consti- 
tutes the brain's general broadcasting 
system. It wakes us up and puts us to sleep; 
allows information to be stored or forgot- 
ten, noted or ignored. Without it, con- 
sciousness is impossible, even if the cor- 
tex is intact. 

Arousal, wakefulness, awareness: That's 
the activating part of the reticular forma- 
tion. If the cerebrum's 10 billion neurons 
were all discharging at once, one would 
have continuous storms of electrical con- 
vulsions. To gain meaningful patterns from 
this stream of information, you need the re- 
ticular formation's inhibitory impulses. 
Nothing, so far, has been able to arouse 
someone whose reticular formation has 
been destroyed. 

Unlike the brain dead, who lie limp as 
rag dolls, vegetative patients may exhibit 
bizarre "decorticate posturing" and spas- 
ticity. Their arms and legs contort into 
"flexion contractures": Elbows, wrists, fin- 
gers bend in toward the chest; knees are 
drawn up fetally, toes down. Some occa- 
sionally yawn and stick out their tongues, 
exhibit lip-smacking or chewing move- 
ments, grimace, and grind their teeth — all 
stereotypical, repetitive reflex responses 
without purpose. 

This is a pretty good portrait of Karen 
Quinlan at the time of the trial. When the 
media and even the medical profession 
referred to her as comatose, they were us- 
ing the term imprecisely. They should have 
said vegetative. 

I was surprised to learn that there are 
about 10,000 Americans "living" in this kind 
of black hole of the soul. These are the "bi- 
ologically tenacious, "to use Surgeon Gen- 
eral C. Everett Koop's term. A crushing fi- 
nancial burden to their families, the typical 
bill tor a year's care is rarely less than 
$200,000. But worse is the family's unend- 
ing psychic pain. "When I went to see her, 
there was no one there," John Jobes, thirty- 
one, told me about his wife, Nancy, also 
thirty-one. Finally he stopped going. 

Nancy Jobes, vegetative for seven years, 
was sustained by a feeding tube in a New 
Jersey nursing home. In 1980, as a preg- 
nant young wife, she was the victim of a 
tragic set of accidents: First an automobile 
accident killed her fetus. Next, during an 
operation to remove the dead fetus, she 
suffered anoxia, loss of oxygen to her brain 

long enough to cause enormous damage 
to the cerebrum. Two years ago John, with 
Nancy's parents and Quinlan lawyer Paul 
W. Armstrong, filed suit to have the feeding 
tube removed. The Lincoln Park nursing 
home refused. The family won their case, 
but the nursing home appealed. Not until 
June 1987 were Jobes and his parents-in- 
law released from their purgatory. At that 
time the New Jersey Supreme Court de- 
cided in their lavor, and Nancy will be al- 
lowed to die with dignity, as they say, after 
years of pointless indignity. It has been in- 
expressible hell for John Jobes. 

"There comes a point where you just 
can't let it go on and on, " he says, his voice 
low and angry. "Nancy would never want 
to be in this state." Today he is emotionally 
and financially wiped out. And after seven 
years it's hard tor him to get on with his lite. 
"My mother- and father-in-law tell me I 
should," he says hollowly, "but it's easier to 
say than do," 

Even though the AMA has now judged 
it ethical tor physicians to withdraw treat- 
ment from such irreversibly unconscious 
patients, confusion and controversy over 
this latest dilemma of high-tech medicine 
still rage in the courts, hospitals, and nurs- 
ing homes. And the problem, more deli- 
cate and complex than brain death, will not 
go away. It's just gathering force. 

A number of people are suggesting that 
the Nancy Jobeses or Karen Ann Quin- 
lans, the persistent vegetatives, could join 
Ihe ranks of the neo-morts. Stuart Young- 
ner, a psychiatrist at Case Western Re- 
serve Medical Center in Cleveland, is one. 
He thinks society should draw up a new 
definition of death. "Once consciousness 
is gone," he says, "the person is lost. What 
remains is a mindless organism." After the 
loss of personhood, he says, the death of 
what remains is not the death of a human 
being but of a thing, "the demise of a body 
that has outiived its owner." 

Needless to say, this new cognitive death 
idea has vehement opponents within the 
medical community. Most M.D.'s are terri- 
fied of it. Dr. Vivian Tellis, renal transplant 
surgeon and codirector of the transplant 
program at New York City's Montefiore 
Hospital, exclaimed to me that the idea was 
"grossly inappropriate! A dangerous dis- 
tinction. If it were instituted, I'd get out of 
the business immediately." 

It's the Coma thing for real, said another. 
In the movie Coma, a female anesthesia 
"accident" victim is declared brain dead; 
they pack her otf to the nefarious Jefferson 
Institute, where her body will be main- 
tained artificia ly unti her parts can be har- 
vested and sold. (Neurologically speaks 
ing, that's all wrong-: She could not have 
been brain dead. She would be in a per- 
sistent vegetative state.) 

Many physicians foresee the massive 
proliferation of 'Jefferson Institutes" de- 
voted. -to harvesting organs from Ihe veg- 
etative "dead." There is no end to possible 
scenarios. Female vegetatives, for exam- 
ple, might be employed as surrogate 



Blessed with gifts of prophecy and 

magic, the boy is 

spiritual chargeman of his Nicaragua/! 

village and of peace itself 


This bunch of nock;ics drop into the bar for 

a boos! before dinner 

and start bullshitting about the war like it 

was Ihe NFL or something. 

tossing off casualty Iguies, arguing tactics, 

and I'm amused, right, 

sol pull up a chair and say I'd be glad to fill 

them in about Ihe war. 

because I can't siand to let ignorance 

flourish . . . which sets them to muttering. 

But before they can work up real host/lily, I 

order a round of drinks 

" and gel to talking about the time Ihe palrol 

was on recon in Nicaragua. 

following the course of the Patuca through 

■ thick mountain jungle, 

just after a flight of Russian choppers had 

laid down a cloud of gas. 

I found myself alone, feeling relaxed. 

grinning like a saved Christian. 

I'd never been at home in the jungle, but 

there I was, spacing on Ihe scenery, 

wondering why orchids had faces and 

monkeys were screaming my name. 

and not a bit worried by the fact that the 

rest of ihe patrol had vanished. 

All that mean green was looking beautiful, 

green like a perfect vice, 

great sweeps and declensions of green, 

an entire vocabulary of green 

scripted by the curves of leaves and vines 

. . . green lenses, green lives. 

Even the air seemed to hold a wash of 

pale emerald throughout, 

I'd heard afcioui :hs gas tne oeaners had 

that turned you sideways to reality, 

but as good as I was feeling, I didn't care 

what Ihe hell was behind it. 

It was as if I 'd become more soldierly, more 

aligned with warring purpose, 

and I understood thai war was not an eveni 

bounded by time, defined by politics, 

but was a principle underlying every life, 

tne ground upon which our actions 

were ocployed. 

Maybe it was foolish to put so much stock 

in a delusion {I never thought il otherwise). 

but I concluded :hs". delusions were 

standard issue, and if you lucked onto a 

compelling one, 

you didn't discard it just because il didn't 

accord with Army regs, 

I walked higher and higher into the 

mountains, looking like death, 

thin and leverish, my eyes gone black from 

seeing, fatigues rotting away, 

Bui I was a miracle inside, ribbed with Ihe 

silver of principle, 

armored with the iron of a new intent, one I 

sensed but could not name. 

The waitress, a brunel with trophy-sized 

balloons, she's been listening, 

and now she asks, "What happened to Ihe 

rest?" I jusl smile and shrug. 

One of the neckties, a real Blow Dry in an 

Italian suit, onyx cufflinks. 

he says, "I've never heard of anything tike 

that. . .that gas or whatever." 


! laugh and tell him I could make a whole 
damn world out of the things he's 
never heard of, 

and that half of everything sounds like fan- 
tasy, anyway . . . take ihe stock market, 
lor example, 

which gets a laugh from the others. But Mr. 
Blow Dry remains unconvinced. 

"I knew lots of guys like you in Nicaragua," 
I say. "They couldn't believe in what 
was killing them. 

Thought because something wasn't real, it 
couldn't do them any harm." 

The neckties struggle with this concept as 
I go on talking about war. 

I came to a white village ringed by green 

mountains, with cane and corn 
■planted on the slopes, and mango trees 
shading the red tile roofs. 

The inhabitants were women, children, and 
old men with wet black eyes as vacant 
as turtles' eyes, 

who told me that their sons had been ex- 
ecuted and buried in a mass grave. 

Their voices were soft, unremorseful, their 
manner calm and resolute, 

and I realized this was nol evidence ol res- 
ignalion but that they were at peace. 

The longer I stayed, the more I understood 
that this peace 

was a by-product of war, filling the valley 
the way rainwater tills a shell crater, 

creating of this violent form a placid sur- 
face and a tranquil depth, 

and this inadvertent transformation was its 
only real incidence, 

tar all those modes ot existence we label 
peace are nothing more than organ- 
isms that when irritated produce the 
pearls we officially sanction as conflicts. 

I lived with a young widow, Serafina, in a 
house with dirt floors, 

a charcoal stove, and a faded Madonna 
on ttie wall above a crude candlelit 

Days, I would put on the cotton shirt and 
trousers of a campesino and help 
her in the fields. 

Nights, I would tell her stories of America 
and other dreams. 

With us lived Ramon, her son, and her se- 
nile mother, Expeciacion, 

the only person in the village aside from 
me who was not at peace. 

She loathed me and would haunt the door- 
way while her daughter and I made love, 

cursing at me, muttering incoherencies 
such as "Your shadow is a demon, your 
hours broken glass," 

and we would be forced to go into the hills 
to find some privacy. 

Seralina was thick-waisted, heavy in the 
legs, her face written with cares, 

but from her I learned that beauty was no . 
measure, rather a kind of lucidity 

that communicated perfectly its moods to 
whomever it permitted to see. 

I wanted to be in love with her . . . more 
than wanted^ needed that solace 

and I believed that love might someday 
override my other compulsions. . 

But though I knew passion with her, knew 

70 OMNI 

all tho trappings ol emotion, 
I could nol iall in love, though I suppose I 
might-have, had I survived. 

Mr. Blow Dry interrupts me, asking if I'm 
claiming to be a ghost 

or if my statement has some symbolic rel- 
evance. "Neither," I tell him. 

"Life and death are elusive in their mean- 
ings." He nods sagely, pretends to ■ 

but the waitress leans close, touching my 
arm, and asks me to explain. 

Her face, though beautiful by any stan- 
dard, seems now to open, 

to expose the reve'aiory beauty that I once 
perceived in Serafina's face, 

and I see her failed years, her petty aspi- 
rations and self-absorption, 

all this distilling into a consolation, a desire 
to provide me with remedies. 

Though there may be no explanations, for 
the sake of her lucid mood, 

I tell her ol Ramon, eight years old, a 

<mThe moon was 
a drop of golden venom in 

his facepiate, 

' his pleading hurt my head, 

' and his thoughts 

scurried like spiders for 

cover into the 
crevices of his brainJ 

slow-witted child with thin arms and 

dull eyes, 
who would sit all day outside the house, 

making pictures of the stones 
he gathered from the bed of a stream that 

carved a groove along the base ot the 

eastern hill. 
The stones were black and white, iron-col- 
ored and mossy green, 
and the pictures had the simplicity of 

graphics, yet had a certain power 
It was said that Ramon had been blessed 

with gifts of prophecy and magic, 
that he was lh<j spiritual chargemanof the 

village and of peace itself. 
It made sense that peace — like war with 

its soldiers — should operate 
through an agency whose character is ol 

a kind with its essential idea. 
But I can only testify that the picture he 

made on my last night there 
showed a shadowy man with a rifle, stand- 
ing with a hand outstretched, 
and just beyond him, as if flung from his 

hand into the air, a black bird was flying 

in a white sky. 
And, too, there was that sense I had of his 

presence, of being always in his scrutiny. 

"Whether or not Ramon was as the vil- 
lagers claimed," I tell the waitress, 
"his truth is undeniable. Our lives are no 

more than pictures made o! stones, 
and moment to moment we and the world 

are transformed utterly. 
Only war and the false dream ol continuity 

are immune to these little deaths. 
Even peace can last for just so long as it's 

able to efiect a magical denial. 
This is not philosophy, but signals a proc- 
ess too subtle to wear a suit of words." 
That last night Serafina and I went into a 

banana grove to be alone, 
and after making love, lying there, watch- 
ing the ragged shadows of the fronds 
shifting across the thickets of stars and 

darkness overhead, 
she made a discoi isoiau; noise, and when 

I asked what was wrong, 
she told me she was concerned about Ex- 
peciacion, her increasing irascibility and 

Then as if on cue, Expectacion appeared 

at the base of the hill, staring at us, 
looking like a huge black bird in her 

peaked shawl, her voice a static of 

We ignored her, and eventually she moved 

off into the night toward home. 
But when we returned to the house, a 

neighbor told us that Expectacion had 

run off into the hills, 
heading west toward the great cliff that 
. overlooked the Patuca. 
Leaving Serafina to watch over Ramon. I 

went to bring back Expectacion. 
As I climbed the western hill, 1 could feel 

my superficial peace dissolving, 
my principle resurfacing, claiming me, 

and everything I saw took on an eerie 

and my thoughts became as black and 

deviant as the limbs of the trees, 
which seemed like weird candelabras 

tipped with a thousand green flames, 
illuminated by a golden lull moon like an 

evil vowel howling silence. 
Now and then I saw Expectacion moving 

above me, a shadow among shadows, 
and I cursed her in-my thoughts. . . . Old 

hag, mad ghost, gloom of a bitch. 
A dozen times I nearly had her, but always 

she eluded me, and at last 
I found her waiting on ihe cliff top. I almost 

caught her as she leaped, 
appearing to vanish up and out into the 

dark, rather than falling. 
I stood a moment, wondering how to tell 

Serafina what had happened, 
and a voice called from the trail leading 

down to the left of the clift, 
commanding me to come toward it, to hold 

my hands high and not to run. 
I did as ordered and soon confronted a 

patrol of men anonymous in their 

combat gear, 
bulky olive-drab suits and helmets with 

smoked faceplates through which were 

reflections of green numerals and dia- 
grams from their computer readouts. 

Rockets bristled Irom their backpacks, 

gas grenades for igniting the air in 

hung in clusters from their belts, and their 

computer-linked rifles hummed. 
1 was confused as to who they were, for 

their speech was an electric babble 
that I translated into frequencies of pure 

meaning, but I believe now they were 

though had they been American, it would 

have made little difference. 
They asked about the village, if there were 

women, if there were soldiers, , , . 
I told them how it was, and they were de- 
lighted, they talked about the pleasures 

awaiting them. 
■ They gave me food and drink, and asked 

me from which village I hailed, 
for in my cotton trousers and embroidered 

shirt, they mistook me for a local. 
I pretended to be grateful, but I hated them, 

I saw the inconstancy 
with which they embodied the principle of 

war, and I knew what must be done. 
That night I walked among them as they 

slept, perfect in my stealth, 
a pure warrior, shadowless, tree of the 

drugs of conscience and morality. 
I slipped a rifle from a sleeping hand and 

swung it in a scything burst 
that finished all but one, whose legs and 

arms were pierced by the rounds. 
He tried to talk with me, and I think he 

understood why he was to die 

but perhaps this was simply a conceit on 
my pari, reflecting a need 'or under- 

The moon was a drop of golden venom in 
his faceplate, his pleading hurt my 

and his thoughts scurried like spiders for 
cover into the crevices of his brain. 

1 killed Ihem all before they could hide and 
leave clues to my identity. 

Then I stood, feeling more unified in pur- 
pose and place than ever. 

Though Ramon may have enlisted me in 
the service of the village, 

though in his picture I might be a protector, 
I saw that my act had been one of 

a reentry into the war, an expression ol its 
art and governance. 

1 felt a shifting within me, I seemed to hear 
a click as of stones being set in place. 

The border between peace and war di- 
vided me, slicing me in half, 

but there was no doubt which of them 
was my ruler, and 1 went down from the 

away from the valley, dead to one world, 
already reborn to the next. 

The rush of traffic is braiding together with 

the ashen twilight into dusk, 
and the neckties are wilting witn their heads 
. down, studying their hands 
with the solemnity of men at a Rotary 
breakfast who are contemplating 



some preacheny tr urn ridi II icy hope will sus- 
tain Ihem through iho'.r business day. 
"What happened then?" asks Mr. Blow Dry, 

and I laugh long and hard 
at the absolute ignorance of time and 

process that h's question reveals. 
"You want to hear more?" I say, "Sure, I'll 

tell you stories all night long. ■ 
I'll tell about The Volcano That Sang. The 

Fire That Spoke My Name, 
about the four-armed child 1 once saw dur- 
ing the Battle of Bluefields. 
Then you can go from here armed with 

sad expertise, with a new pose of 

with a vital and seduclivc color to add to 

your cocktail party opinions. 
Sure, manl Buy another round! We'll ialk, 

we'll fucking communicate, 
I'll make believe you're really here, and 

you can pretend the world has never 

The neckties are alarmed, not wanting 

their shallowness to be mistaken for 

what it is, 
and they assure me that all I've said has 

made a difference in their lives, 
impressed by the hard-hitting glamour of 

pain with — wow!— philosophy, too, 
and ignoring the possibility that I may be 

deluded or a liar or both. 
But the waitress only looks al me, and as 

peace begins to spill from the bar 

into the warring street, 
instead of her face, her beautiful lucid 

face that stuns me with its clarity 

of mood, " . 
its intimations of something more than 

sympathy, of deeper interest, 
I have a vision of a child's enormous grimy 

fingers reaching toward me. . . . 

Listen, Ramon. What good is there in my 

continued service? 
Is it that I am a counterweight, a potent 

pawn whose movements 
help to maintain the delicate border be- 
tween peace and war? 
Even if so, sooner or later the border will 

erode and a harsh toll will be taken, 
harsher for every moment that denies war's 

I have died many limes, always for the sake 

of principle, and I am not afraid. 
I have lost the capacity for fear and for 

much else that makes a man. 
But this woman is becoming real to me, 
and though she is only an argument against 

an unendurable truth, 
I need a death to consume me in light, lo 

show me Ihose things I might have 

learned in that valley where peace 

was the law and magic the rule. 
Choose your stones with care, Ramon. 
Give me back my world of random choices, 

of ordinary defeats. 
Leave in place the green stone in my skull 

lhat is prool against I ho lie of time. 
Stay your hand from the white stone in my 

groin that admits lo heat and angels. 
Pluck only the black stone Irom my heart, 

and tonighl let me die for love.DO 





Once again Harlan Ellison comes on with 
line spirit and power of Elijah, stripping bare 
the Beast and nailing its twitching carcass 
to the spire. I'm a Christian, a former min- 
isterial student, and core weary of ignorant 
Falwellian midges. Why-does ignorance 
always have the loudest voice? 

— Les Brown, Riverside, CA 

Congratulations! It's about time that the 
creationists were given a dose of their own 
medicine. Stein's 'Censoring Science" was 
like a beacon of light in thick fog, The ig- 
norance of creationists must be stopped — 
in the name of humanity. It has no place at 
the edge of the twenty-first century. — Nick 
J. Szegedi, Director of Engineering, Da- 
tum-X, Simi Valley, CA 

You have dealt with a very serious problem 
in a courageous and outspoken manner. 
But the desire to censor is not specific to 
any particular point on the ideological 
spectrum. To attribute it only to "right-wing 
religious zealots" is unfair, misleading, and 
a disservice to your readership. I could cite 
numerous examples of liberals who have 
mounted protests against books or movies 
they considered racist, antifeminist, or 
promilitary. — Laird Wilcox, Kansas City 

Walter Lippmann said, "When everyone 
thinks alike, nobody thinks very much." 
Undoubtedly he would have found your is- 
sue on censorship as frightening and en- 
couraging as I did: frightening because it 
described the forces arrayed against free 
thinking; encouraging because of your 
gutsy stance on a controversial issue. I do 
take issue with the wording of your post- 
card: "I violently oppose censorship. . . ." 
Violence is a tool of censors. 

—Howard V. Hendrix, Idyllwild, CA 

Particle physicist Murray Gell-Mann's First 
Word proves only one thing: Nobel laure- 
ates are no more rational, perceptive, or 
open-minded than anyone else. 

— R. W. Slocum, Pasadena, CA 

In the beginning, bang, God created the 
heavens and the earth. The. earth was 
without form and void, and unseeable ra- 
diation left darkness upon the face of the 
bubbling plasma for about 500.000 years. 
The spirit of God moved upon the face of 
the waters, cooling, causing aloms to form 
and re-form, And God said, "Let there be 
light." What's the dispute here? 

— Ali Klos, Oakhurst, CA 

I appreciate the update on censorship, but 
I am perturbed. I regret the attitude of sev- 
eral writers that all religion is unthinking, 
closed off from the scientific world. On the 
contrary, millions of believers join me in a 
fascination with the drama of ancestral 
hominids. At knowledge is a disclosure of 

73 OMNI 

Goc. Thank you for cringing excitemen: m'C 
my home month after month. — William E. 
Olewiler, Pastor, Highland Park United 
Methodist Church, Roanoke, VA 

The actions of the religious right may be 
hard to understand at times, but they at 
least are honest when they want to ban a 
book. You, however, are book burners of 
the worst sort. While you claim to be cham- 
pions of academic freedom, you censor 
with ridicule and contempt those who dis- 
agree with you. You advocate freedom of 
expression and bully those who dare 
question your authority. You have as many 
presupposnons as the creationists. 

— Roger C. Long, Springfield, NJ 

My concern as a Christian educator is that 
the theory of evolution is taught as a fact. 
It isn't a fact. If we are going to pick the 
Christian view apart, state the other view 
for what it is — an educated guess at 
best! — T. Michael Hayes. Franklin, KY 

QPerhaps your 
issue finally brought some 

people out of 

their trances long enough to 

do something about 

the wave of watered-down, "safe 

■ science" education 
inundating the public schools.^ 

I was born in Germany under Hitler and 
watched with horror the infamous book 
burnings in the streets. We hid our books, 
the books thai had been -oi bidden. I read 
"Censoring Science" in tears. I came to a 
free country — where are we now? 

— GildaC. Davis, Newcastle, CA 

I'm going to store this issue'in the garbage 
can, where it belongs. Liberal philosophy 
already has accornp ishod a great deal in 
this country: high divorce rate, drug abuse, 
teenage abortion, high crime rate, AIDS. 
—Bill Wallace, Ridgecrest, CA 

I'm an Italian science writer. Today modern 
science does not exist in Italy because the 
Pope has more power than the prime min- 
ister. The doctrine of creation has been 
taught in public schools — by law — since 
1929, displacing the theory of evolution. 
There are. no popular-science books in 
bookshops. Popular-science magazines 
are almost unknown. Astrology and witch- 
craft, however, are spreading fast — as fast 
as they are spreading in the United States. 
Is this the beginning of the end of ration- 
alism? — Fabio FeiTiiro, fv'.essna, Italy 

It rubs against my scientific grain to read 
words like fact and highly verifiable asso- 
ciated with ideas and theories. I am a fun- 
damentalist Christian working in genetic 
mapping and recombination. That does not 
make me a moron. 

— JeanWiggin, Ypsilanii. Ml 

Had I known the trash I was going to re- 
ceive when I subscribed to your maga- 
zine, I would never have wasted my money. 
"The fool hath said in his heart there is no 
God." You're a disgrace. 

— R. C. Weathers, Dixie, KY 

Perhaps your issue finally brought some 
people out of their trances long enough to 
do something about the wave of watered- 
down, "safe science" education inundat- 
ing the public schools. In my talks with mu- 
seum visitors, I refer to current evolution- 
ary theory as the best "recipe" science has 
to explain the variety and abundance of life 
today. For some reason they can handle 
that better than being called intolerant re- 
ligious nuts. I was disappointed that Stein's 
article degenerated into yet another hatchet 
job on the South. — Corry Lee Smith, Red 
Mountain Museum, Birmingham, AL 

I am thirteen years old and go to a small 
junior high school in a small town. If books 
by great contemporary authors are banned 
from bookstores and libraries, where would 
I go to get John Updike or Sidney Shel- 
don? Where would I be without the great 
imagination of.Stephen King? 

— Stephanie Simpson. Petaluma, CA 

I'm a member of a rare breed! A high- 
school biology teacher in rural Louisiana 
who is managing to teach the principles of 
evolution without being "burned at the 
stake." I thoroughly enjoyed the article by 
Kathleen Stein. Every year I see more stu- 
dents drawn away from science by fun- 
damentalist propaganda in my district. As 
a biologist and educator I am committed 
to teaching evolution in my classes de- 
spite creationist movements. By properly 
motivating my students and truthfully ap- 
proaching the processes of evolution, I 
hope to help my students comprehend the 
implications of this wonderful theory. By no 
means do I undermine Christian faith. 
—Murray Paton Pendarvis, Albany. LA 

As an Episcopalian priest and a humani- 
ties instructor at a local college, I never fail 
to be shocked by the zealous nihilism 
shown by religous lundan-.er.talists. Their 
unreasoning and restrictive mind-set illus- 
trates the medieval doctrine called "invin- 
cible ignorance." I was impressed that you 
did not lump all religious bodies together 
but clearly spociliod "fundamentalism" as 
the problem. 

— Frank Carson Knebel, Yuba City, CA 

from the public education system. Now 

teachers are ai.'aid if. discuss God with their 
students for iear of losing their jobs. You 
failed to include any mention of that cen- 
sorship. Now the ideological children of the 
censors are crying "foul." The religious right 
should not be allowed to censor scientific 
theories from our textbooks. Neither should 
secular humanists be allowed to censor 
God from our classrooms. 

—Deborah K. Young, Houston 

As a scientist I am relieved to see the threat 
of "creation science" addressed seriously. 
What creationists seek to accomplish by 
insisting their beliefs get equal time in bi- 
ology texts is nothing short of insidious, to- 
talitarian-style suppression of the ideas that 
the word science is in I ended to symoo ize. 
This type of behavior in a democracy is 
deplorable. Your top-rate journalistic ex- 
posure is essential to the preservation of 
truth.— Scott R. Gould, Fort Collins, CO 

You have the gall to complain that you might 
have to share science texts with the crea- 
tionists, even though most Americans fa- 
vor creationisrn! You're not being fair. Your 
position is shaky at best. No wonder your 
writers resorted to devious journalistic 
ploys. — D. Nicholls, Ringwood, NJ 

I am fifteen years old, and I am terrified of 
the future. I would rather have a full-scale 
nuclear war than have insane peoples tell 
me what to think. We have a better chance 
of surviving a war than the mental geno- 
cide these censors are proposing. 

— Kim McCleskey, Albuquerque, NM 

I'm insulted to the nth degree by your is- 
sue. Do any of you super-smarties ever stop 
to think that maybe, just maybe, the Big 
Bang was God's doing? I don't have all the 
answers, but with all your education and 
knowledge, you don't either. If I followed 
my baser instincts, I'd cuss you out and 
'punch your lights out. But that really won't 
solve much. Shucks! I'll even say a little 
prayer for you. 
—William Skip Brochner, Albuquerque, NM 

Living, in Louisiana I have seen the types 

oi outrages described in your articles. 
Some, of the bookstores here— most no- 
tably Waldenbooks — have displays listing 
the books banned by the religious right. 
They include such classics as Hamlet, 
Macbeth, and The Three Little Pigs. I cried 
the first time I saw the display. 
— Christina Guerrero, Baton Rouge, LA 

As a member of the younger generation, I 
would like to inject a ray ot hope into the 
dark cloud of despair that Norman Leaf 
described in his article "Why Johnny Can't 
Think." We're not all scientific illiterates. We 
work hard in school, go beyond the core 
curriculum, enroll in advanced science 
courses, research topics, attend lectures 
and seminars. Let's be a bit optimistic. 
There is hope for the future, and we are 
it.— Gabriella B. Hargita, San Antonio DO 

A TENNESSEE MULE is a lot like a Tennessee 
whiskey-maker: Good, and stubborn. 
For seven generations in Jack Daniel's Hollow 
we've refused to budge from a whiskey-making 
method called charcoal mellowing. That's where 
every drop of just-made Jack Daniel's is seeped 

through tightly packed charcoal before 

aging. And nothing (not even aging) 
makes it more mellow. So when 
folks call us ornery and mule-like, 
we're quick to agree. You see, if we 
hadn't been so stubborn all these 
years, our whiskey wouldn't be 
so smooth. 


Tennessee Whiskey-80-90 Prool-Dist 
Lem Motlow, Proorr J " 

:- . ... l. ■ - l-. i > . i en jm: oucNeo by lack Dani 
Route 1. Lynchburg (Pop. 361), Tennesse 

Sex and athletics are both 
performance issues, says the founder 
of sports psychology, who 
discovered a method of freeing the 
bodies of elite athletes to 
surpass even their own personal bests 


□ ne slory Bruce Ogilvie loves to toll is ol his first experi- 
ence working with professional athletes. In the mid-Six- 
ties, he recalls, he was smuggled late one night up the 
steep back stairs ol the San Francisco 49ers' training complex. 
Pro teams had occasionally sneaked a problem player or two off 
to a psychologist before, but the 49ers actually planned to sign 
a year-round pact with Ogilvie that would have him working right 
in the team's training camp. The first pro club to make such a 
move, the 'Niners sure as hell didn't want anyone to know about 
it. Nonetheless, a well-known sportswriter found out and blasted 
the team forcalling in a "jock shrink. " "Don't they know," he wrote, 
"that they could get bolter advice from any bartender in the city 7 " 
In those early days, Ogilvie says, sports psychology had to 
fight fpr every inch to gain equal footing among other sports 
sciences. Today, since athletes a! the highest levels are so evenly 


matched in physical skills, many experts agree that the mind-set 
is the key factor separating good from great performers, There's 
not a pro team today that hasn't sought psychological services 
for its players. In the last Olympics, psychologists were assigned 
to dozens of American athletes and several teams. Ogilvie him- 
self worked with the figure skating team and men's and women's 
volleyball teams, which took gold and silver medals, respectively. 
The original jock shrink. Ogilvie is today acknowledged as the 
man who generated the entire field of sporls psychology. His 
book Problem Athletes, published in 1966, was the first to apply 
psychotherapeutic principles to understand and help college and 
Olympic competitors. His landmark studies of Malional Football 
League players in the Sixties provided the first in-depth portrait 
of the inner lives of professional athletes In the late Sixties and 
early Seventies, combining elements of behavior modification 

and Eastern mysticism, he developed a 
series of "performance enhancement 
strategies" to help top athletes improve 
concentration, build confidence, decrease 
tension, marshal energy and increase mo- 
tivation. Variations on these techniques are 
at the heart of every sports psychologist's 
repertoire today. 

Ogilvie has counseled 38 professional 
sports teams. In the Los Angeles Olym- 
pics alone he coached a total of 48 elite 
athletes, 36 of whom won medals. In the 
three decades since he entered a totally 
unexplored arena, he has studied nearly 
12,000 of the world's finest athletes. 

A clinical psychotherapist who received 
his Ph.D. from the University of London's 
Institute ot Psychiatry in 1953, Ogilvie orig- 
inally specialized in abnormal psychology 
and sexual dysfunction. Frustrated with the 
failures of the convoluted and highly biased 
Freudian-based sex therapy then holding 
sway in the United States, he treated sex- 
ual inhibition as a "performance" issue. 
Sexual dysfunction, his practice showed, 
was the result of a "disconnect" between 
mind and body — an intrusion into an indi- 
vidual's emotional "script" that blocked the 
body's natural responses. Ogilvie discov- 
ered he could eliminate the disconnect by 
literally rehearsing with his patient a better 
script for performance. The controversial 
"imaging" technique he developed for 
mental rehearsal became the germ of his 
athletic-enhancement strategies. 

At sixty-seven, Ogilvie claims he has re- 
duced his schedule to working with "only 
about eighty-seven athletes a year." The 
sweeping view from the cliffs atop his 40- 
acre estate, overlooking the lush Santa 
Cruz Mountains in California, indeed be- 
speaks a life of expanding leisure. But the 
waterless Jacuzzi outside his small wood- 
and-glass office contradicts such ideas. 
Filled with leaves, it suggests he's not quite 
ready for a long, hot soak. When he's not 
doing therapy, Ogilvie's either up in his 
bedroom alcove writing, or flying to Paris 
to teach mental strategies io the French 
Olympic team. 

Listening to Ogilvie's gentle but em- 
phatic voice did wonders to relax the 
psyches of.interviewers Pamela Weintraub 
and Mark Teich. After a hard day of an- 
swering questions, Ogilvie escorted the 
pair to a restaurant run by his wife, Diane, 
just a javelin's throw outside the gates of 
his estate. One of his clients, a golfer from 
the Ladies Professional Golf Association 
tour, greeted Ogilvie and his wife with open 
arms and promptly joined the group for 
dinner. The standard distance psycholo- 
gists keep from their clients, notes Ogilvie, 
protects only the therapist. And he doesn't 
want any protection. "Everyone I work with," 
he says, "ends up a friend." 

Omni: You're generally regarded as the la- 
ther of sports,.psychology. How does that 
sit with you? 

Ogilvie: A lot of my colleagues see me as 
the grandfather. I don't call myself any- 
82 OMNI 

thing, though I've been around so long I've 
worked with more elite athletes than any- 
one in the world. I go back to Rome. 
Omni: ad.? 

Ogilvie: Yeah, thanks. I'm talking about the 
Rome Olympics in 1960. 
Omni: You yourself were an athlete. Was 
that significant in opening doors for you? 
Ogilvie: it was very important. You can't 
appreciate what little credibility psycholo- 
gists had among coaches. Who needed 
the goddamn flaky shrink? They saw us as 
eifete and intellectual — not loo masculine. 
But I've always been an athlete; l was a 
high-school wrestler and football player, 
and I guess I'm the world's oldest weight 
lifter. During my hitch in the Air Force I 
wrestled and taught hand-to-hand com- 
bat. I became interested in judo and was 
at the gym whenever I wasn't working. 

So here I was, Bruce the jock, who ham- 
mered heads and slammed bodies when 
he wasn't playing basketball or volleyball. 
The physical-education staff at San Jose 

'•Some athletes were 
depression-prone. Some had 

developed phobic 

reactions to performance, some 

■ were immobiiized 

by fear of failure, and 

some were 

deeply afraid of success.^ 

State, where I taught, started to take me 
seriously. Some coaches began to ask 
questions. Within a few years two track 
coaches started sending me young ath- 
letes in crisis. Word spread to other 
coaches in the Bay Area, who assumed 
that because I'd been and remained an 
athlete, I had rare insights into the conflicts 
ot athletes. But I really had no particular 
basis for presuming I could understand the 
great variety of problems I was going to 
encounter. We knew nothing about the in- 
ner life of the athlete. I felt the way Freud 
might once have felt: I was seeing prob- 
lems I'd never heard described. 
Omni: What kinds of problems? 
Ogilvie: The athletes' inability to achieve 
their potential reflected a whole range of 
conflicts. Some were depression-prone. 
Some had developed phobic reactions 
about performance. Some were immobi- 
lized by a subconscious tear of failure. And 
some were deeply afraid of success. 

We'd recognized the fear-of-success 
syndrome in humans without fully under- 
standing it. But in athletes I saw it so plainly. 
I barely had to do any interpreting. I worked 
with a young pole-vaulter a! Stanford who 

was equaling [ho National Collegiate Ath- 
letic Association record in practice. Yet after 
two years he'd never scored a single point 
in competition. We eventually discovered 
that he was terrified that if he achieved his 
goals and dreams, he'd have to meet the 
expectations of others for the rest o! his life. 
He found this unbearable. 

Another young man who came to see 
me had once been a marvelous shortstop, 
a potential number-one drall choice in the 
major leagues. We started going back in 
his mind, trying to find out when and where 
it all came apart. When he was seventeen, 
he was being examined by the head scouls 
from a top National League team. He was 
fielding, showing the scouts his skills, when 
suddenly he bobbled the nexl ten or so 
bails. I said, "Stop. I want you to relive that 
entire experience with me." I sensed that 
we'd reached the key event. So next we 
re-created the whole visual field he'd been 
exposed to — the color of the grass, the 
lights on the poles, the stands and where 
the scouts sat in them. Then I said, "Now, 
put a tape in your head, and run that pre- 
cise experience lor me." So he went along, 
describing every ball he'd fielded suc- 
cessfully, until he said to me, "Oh, Christ, 
there's that son of a bitch!" "What are you 
seeing?" I asked. "There's my dad, sneak- 
ing down into the stands on the right. 
There's that son of a bitch!" 

His dad had never related to him except 
in terms of his athletic performance, so his 
only need was to act out the rage at him. 
The young man utterly destroyed his life to 
get even with his rejecting father. But at 
least his little, hurt childhood self got even. 
He could see clearly after we finished re- 
living the situation: if he'd fulfilled his own 
ambitions, he'd also have fulfilled his fa- 
ther's needs. And he couldn't abide that. I 
can tell a thousand stories like this. I've got 
a father story from every city in America. 
Omni: Were you surprised to keep seeing 
■ athletes with such problems? 
Ogilvie: I was shocked and truly con- 
cerned. They were exhibiting blatant 
pathological reactions. I found far more ir- 
rational fears and far more clearly mani- 
fested neuroses than I'd seen in the normal 
student population. I came to believe that 
most top athletes were overcompensating 
psychoneurotics. I began to question se- 
riously the value of high-level competitive 
sports. I thought we'd done the students a 
disservice by encouraging Ihom to pursue 
such intense goals. 

Omni: Didn't you write about this in your 
first book? 

Ogilvie: Yes. Problem Athletes introduced 
clinical psychology to athletics. It also pro- 
jected me a ind the world. 
I lectured throughout Europe, where inter- 
est surpassed that in the United Stales. But- 
even before the book was published, I be- 
gan to question my conclusions. I realized 
that just as Freud had erred by basing all 
his conclusions on a select population of 
Viennese, Jewish women, I was seeing only 
athleles who'd collapsed in competition. 

But what I'd seen didn't jibe with my own 
athletic experience. What I'd taken away 
had been so rich; it had made a magnifi- 
cent contribution to my life. So I decided 
to see if I'd find a different psychological 
profile in elite aihletes, those who'd at- 
tained Ihe highest levels. In 1964 I ap- 
proached an old friend, Lou Spadia, then 
president of the San Francisco 49ers. I said, 
"Lou, would it ever be possible to study 
your team?" I told him that Tom Tutko, my 
colleague al San Jose Stale, and I would 
need only a day out of his preseason train- 
ing camp to administer psychological in- 
ventories to the entire team. Like all busi- 
nessmen, he said, !l What do I get out of it?" 
I said, "We'll give you an entire year of our 
services. We',! use I'mc test dala to help you 
understand each athlete more fully and to 
identify rookies who might bolt camp. We'll 
be there for crisis mien-option whenever an 
athlete isn't performing." Then he asked me 
if I'd like bigger numbers, and I said, 
"Great!"; so he had me meet the. owners of 
the L.A. Rams and the general manager of 
the Dallas Cowboys. We ended up making 
a three-year deal with all of them. In 1965 
the New Orleans Saints |oined in. 
Omni: When you analyzed your data from 
these players, did your ideas change? 
Ogilvie: It buried my notion of athletes as 
overcompensating psychoneurotics once 
and for all! NFL players were well-put-to- 
gether human beings. Compared with the 
general population, only hall as many of 
these athletes were compensatory or prone 
to pathological reaction. You've never seen 
a more ambitious group of men; they were 
significantly higher in their achievement 
needs. They tended to be more tough- 
minded. They were far superior to most 
university-educated men in emotional in- 
tegration, self-control, self-confidence, and 
ability to handle stress. And these findings 
held up over the years when I studied oilier 
elite amateur and professional athletes. 
Omni: What about your claim to predict and 
prevent rookies from bolting camp? 
Ogilvie; This is what really nailed down my 
credibility! At every camp I'd pick the five 
or six guys who were going to bolt. One or 
two of them would invariably be the team's 
third or second or even first draft choice. 
One night at eleven pm. I was on the phone 
to Tom Fears, head coach at New Orleans. 
1 said, "Tom, let me give you feedback on 
these six athletes wi icm I sec as most prone 
to run," The momeni I finished naming the 
athletes, he says, "Waif a minute, Bruce, 
someone's banging on the goddamn door." 
I hear some mumbiing. arid when he comes 
back he tells me one of the six is standing 
there, siill taped up from the workout, suit- 
case in hand. I told Tom to have him sit 
down and to ask the boy specific ques- 
tions, like "What exactly are you feeling?" 
The boy said he was lonely and scared 
about making if. He came from a small town 
and just knew hh? was going to let down his 
mom and dad and everybody. So then I 
had Fears say to him, "Look, son r , that's 
what we're here for. You're taking on some- 
86 OMNI 

thing that's not yours. Give us time." Then 
Tom talked about all the times he'd wanted 
to run when he was younger. Finally the kid 
decided to stay. He wound up playing in 
the league for six years and was an out- 
standing defensive back. This same kind 
of thing happened with fhe Cowboys, with 
the San Diego Padres oaseball team, and 
it's happened countless times in the sev- 
enteen years I've worked with the Portland 
Tra I Blazes basketball team. In those first 
days with the NFL, it made the coaches 
believe I was someone they could place 
their faith in. It opened the door for me to 
approach them with performance-en- 
hancing strategies. ■ 

Omni: You've said the magic words. How 
did you begin io develop your new per- 
formance-enhancem.enl methods? 
Ogilvie: I'd begun to develop these tech- 
niques in my previous work on sexual dys- 
function. Nothing traditional could be ap- 
plied to help -.in athlete acnieve his or her 
particular goal, so I began to explore new 

<mhiis dad never 

related to the shortstop 

except in terms 

of his athletic performance, 

and the young 
man utterly destroyed his 

life to get even 
with the rejecting father.^ 

approaches My gradu-n:; training was 
strongly shaped by Professor J. Wobc one 
of the pioneers in behavior modification 
But treating people like rats violated my 
sensibilities. I couldn'l get into all that 
scheduling and programming of human 
behavior. 1 knew a'hlctes endn't belong in 
Skinner boxes; I'd die if you did that to me. 
If you even threaten to take away my con- 
trol. I'm not a very nice animal to be around. 
Because the psychology literature was 
barren of references to sports, I look what 
I liked from Eastern literature and merged 
il with my own training. 
Omni: Where did you begin? 
Ogilvie: With the principle that people have 
many, many levels of awareness and that 
our goal should be to seek the means for 
getting in touch with all of them, While 
Western culture had failed to develop au- 
thentic strategies for generating aware- 
ness, I was convinced t'nal training people 
'to do so would be a profoundly freeing 
technique. What convinced me were my 
own rummag'ngs t. psychoanalysis- dur- 
ing my training. I'd never felt that my own 
analysis had really gotten me in touch with 
the Bruce underneath. For example, not 

one of my therapist; s.H I'.c.eni y presented 
me with one of the most profound influ- 
ences of my life— father separation. My fa- 
ther left us, and I never knew him; so I had 
to go back and deal with that to get free of 
a lot of things that were hanging me up. 

In high school, for example, I'd been an 
athlete twenty-four hours a day. This was 
clearly tied in to looking for a dad. I never 
found a father substitute, but I looked for 
one in every coach I had. 

When I was sixteen I was on the football 
team, playing linebacker on defense and 
ouarlerback on offense. We were playing 
a tough team, and on defense I was 
matched against a young man who even- 
tually became a groat star al fullback. I was 
determined he wouldn't get any yardage. 
After one tackle he nailed me in the face 
with his foot. We didn't wear face masks 
then, so his cleats split my lip and broke 
my nose. I was lying on the ground, hurting 
so bad, my face just destroyed. I got up 
and ran slowly toward my coach, a big. fat 
man named Piggy I was frightened as shit. 
I just wanted him to say my face was going 
to be okay and to hold me. Instead he 
looked at me and said, "Can you still call 
signals, Bruce?" I said yeah, and he sent 
me back to quarterback. With my mouth 
filling with blood and blood running down 
my nose, I turned around and went back 
into the huddle. I couldn't talk because ol 
the blood in my mouth, so I asked our Full- 
back to call the signals. I stayed in, bleed- 
ing, and the coach never said a word, like 
"Good game" or 'Thanks for putting out." 
And I wanted' it so bad. I think I decided 
fhen and there that no one was going to 
give me what I needed. I was going to have 
to find it within myself. 

None of these analysts had me relive any 
ol this. Had someone taken my experience 
and projected it on the wail so I could see 
al' ils ramifications. I •" ght nave been freed 
thirty-five years earlier. This is why I em- 
brace the idea of reliving Ihe experience- 
re-creating the event by using what we've 
come to call guided imagery. It wasn't 
called anything then. I just thought of it as 
reinforcing ihe reality of a situation. 
Omni: Why is guided imagery more effec- 
tive than free association? 
Ogilvie: Because you re-create the actual 
living 'and vibrant world in which the ex- 
perience occurred. People have atape in 
their heads, see. You tell them to run the 
tape, and it's all there. We're like two detec- 
tives in pursuit of the experience, As your 
guide, I try to help you in the search. I might 
say, "What was the house like?" "Did you 
have a dog?" "Did you look in the corner?" 
"Lift up the rug." 

Omni: You initially developed this tech- 
nique to treat sexual dysfunction? 
Ogilvie: In the Fifties we were dismally ig- 
norant and really had no legitimate strate- 
gies for (racking sexual inhibition. We jusl 
brutalized women H :el.mg them exactly how 
to respond and what they should respond 
to. We almost condemned them. And we 
had no legitimate strategies. 

Y)u cant hurry love 
or bourboaEspecially 


8 years old, 101 proof, pure Kentucky 



Sexual inhibitions are really perform- 
ance issues. Like an alhlele in crisis, the 
lurned-off person suffers a disconnect be- 
tween cognilion and neuroanatomical 
function. With guoed /naging I could have 
a preorgasmic woman relive herself, "re- 
script" herself as an active, functioning 
sexual creature. Initially, as she shares her 
tape of her experience, I could observe the 
point in the process where the inhibiting 
thought palterns interrupted her physio- 
logical harmony. You see where the blocks 
come up, where mama's voice suddenly 
says, "You're dirty" when she touches her- 
self. There can be thousands of negative 
inputs in the unconscious. 
Omni: How do you eliminate those inputs? 
Ogilvie: As we roll the tape, we write Ihe 
negative cognitions out of the script, re- 
placing them with positive images compli- 
mentary to her eroticism and aesthetics. I 
tell her I want her to develop a script of a 
successful, sell-loving experence. Then we 
rehearse the script again and again until 
she has an appropriate model for the sen. 
sitive, self-accepting side of her nature. I 
try to get her back to her personal best- 
back to her spinal cord, so to speak — and 
fully in lune with the moment.. 
Omni: How did your colleagues take, to this 
new sexual treatment? 
Ogilvie: I got killed, professionally, 'At one 
stalf meeting, we were discussing Ihe is- 
sue ot sexual transference. This was cer- 

tainly an issue of concern to me because, 
well, I was a good look'no, young man then. 
You get into a trusting, true, open, and tree 
communication with a woman who feels 
lerribly frustrated and unloved; she feels 
your caring and the protection you afford 
her. Then the transference phenomenon is 
vital to the psycholf-e.-apeutc process. But 
somehow it was often very difficult for me 
to redirect it to the appropriate source: a 
husband or lover, for instance. My col- 
leagues said, "Well, you son of a bitch: 
you're reinforcing it." I said maybe my ego 
sometimes used to allow such a ihing, but 
I was way pasl that now. I didn't need sex- 
ual filiation from my palients. 

Then t told them I'd been working on a 
strategy so powerful I wanted to share it 
with them. I'd been counseling this very 
prominent dancer. She was a very physi- 
cal woman who had great problems relat- 
ing sexually in any continual way— and was 
confused about why. The more we ex- 
plored her feelings, erotic nature, and ad- 
ventures, the more aggressive she be- 
came. The only resolution almost seemed 
to be for her and me to have intercourse. I 
told her what a beautiful woman she was 
and that I couldn't be more honored. But, I ■ 
asked Is that whal you really want? 

Then I suggested that we use guided 
imagery io take ourse'ves ihrough a cop- 
ulative experience together. After I had her 
close her eyes, I asked her to imagine we 

were down on the floor: I don't know why. 
Then I said, "Let's turn our chairs away from 
each other." Then we went through an en- 
tire imaging experience, keeping up an 
open dialogue about whal she was expe- 
riencing. When she believed she had 
achieved physical satisfaction, I said, "Now, 
lying back in your arms, looking into your 
eyes, I ask you, Is this what you wanted?" 
God, was that powerful! 
Omni: What did she say? 
Ogilvie: She said no. She wanted a male Io 
accept her totally, to care aboui her inner- 
most feelings. She wanted someone to 
provide absolute protection when she was 
mosl vulnerable. The nexl session, she was 
complelely different. Now Ihe transference 
had evolved into a force for her growth. I 
became a trusting male, a brother who 
loved her. the father she never had. 

My colleagues, of course, were out- 
raged. I never described the technique Io 
any of them again. 

Omni: How did you oegin to carry Ihis and 
other imaging techniques over to athletes'' 
Ogilvie: The key event, the therapeutic ex- 
perience that showed it could be done, 
happened in 1962, Hammer thrower Ed 
Burke, a true great who had been in four 
Olympics, had a tragic accident right in 
front of Life magazine's photographers, 
who had come to San Jose State to film 
him for a cover story. His wife, Shirley, who 
just happened to be in one of my psycho!- 

ogy classes, had parked tier old VW in the 
field way off to the right to watch the film- 
ing. She seemed to be completely out ot 
range, but damned it he didn't lose control 
early in one throw. This sixleen-pound 
bomb flew and smashed through her 
windshield. He ran to the car, expecting to 
find her dead. The hammer had crushed 
her face around her eye, an incredible 
wound. Everyone gathered around her, 
then Ed carried her off to the first-aid room 
and eventually to the hospital. 

It was actually just a glancing blow, and 
she healed very well alter lots ot treatment 
and plastic surgery. When she was out of 
the hospital, she approached me and said 
that Ed wouldn't throw anymore. And the 
Olympics were coming up that following 
year. So I asked if he would come see me. 
Soon after he started seeing me, he was 
able to practice again but didn't approach 
the distances he'd thrown before. Some- 
thing had obviously changed. 

It seemed that whatever was inhibiting 
his return to his former national level of per- 
formance had not yet been uncovered. 
From the study of his personality it had 
been apparent that he was an athlete pos- 
sessed of extraordinary conscience. The 
guilt that the unfortunate accident had 
generated was an obvious negative emo- 
tional force that had to be understood. I 
asked him if we could go back and re-cre- 
ate the entire traumatic event. Ed said he 
thought that would be too painful. I then 
asked him if we could re-creale the scene 
of the practice setting tnroiigh guided im- 
agery. My clinical interest was in generat- 
ing an increased awareness oi all perform- 
ance-relevant behavior. Rather than 
attending to the possible intrusive guilt 
feelings, the search was directed to the 
behavioral changes that such feelings had 
produced. I asked Ed to stand and pre- 
pare to throw. We envisioned the practice 
setting, the cage, the throwing ring, the ex- 
panse of green extending from the ring, 
and even the visual targets that Ed had set 
for himself; Due to the confined space — 
my office — 1 asked him to practice his 
throws in slow motion. I had Ed complete 
about three practice throws, and then I tried 
to elevate-his level of arousal. "Okay, Ed, 
we are now getting ready to go for dis- 
tance; let's think n ■■ lerms oi oersonal bests," 
I said. When I felt intuitively that he had 
reached something close to his ideal per- 
formance state, I said, very simply, Go into 
your motion now. As I watched Ed begin 
his ritual, swinging the imaginary 16-pound 
hammer, flexing and extending his afms, 
grasping and regrasping Ihe handle, he 
began to demonstrate in slow motion his 
classic performance style. "As he hit the 
middle of his second turn he called out, 
"Look, Doc; look at my hands." I didn't have 
the background to judge motor reguire- 
ments for his event, so I said, "Tell me what 
you are seeing'." -He said, "Look at my fin; 
gers; look where they are on the handle." 
It wasn't until that moment that one.ol the 
most significant causes of his perform- 

88 OMNI 

ance decrement was illuminated. 

He saw himself changing his hand grip 
for safety, shortchanging the style that 
would extend the arch and eventually the 
trajectory of the hammer. "We got it, Ed, we 
got it," I said. As we reprocessed this crit- 
ical moment, it seemed to us that his dis- 
trust in his hands had blocked his motor 
gifts. Within two weeks his confidence had 
returned and he was throwing at his NCAA 
championship level. 
Omni: Why did this approach work? 
Ogilvie: Because it gets the human right 
down to focusing on causality. There is no 
interpretive bullshit, no supershnnk going 
through some analytic voodoo. I got to the 
raw data ot experience. What was really 
going on in his body and mind? The con- 
sensus was that the cognitions weren't 
complementary to performance. You can't 
have reservation and fear and expect your 
body to release the hammer at ideal per- 
formance levels. The imaging makes the 
athlete see himself in terms of neuromus- 


inhibitions are performance 

issues. Like 

an athlete in crisis, the 

turned-off person 

suffers a 'disconnect' between 

cognition and 

neuroanatomical function.^ 

cular reguirements, performance, and body 
mechanics. He becomes aware. 
Omni: What about athletes who haven't 
suffered a trauma but just want to improve 
their game? 

Ogilvie: One oi my most important strate- 
gies is that of Changing what I call self-talk. 
It emerged during my first year in Ihe Dal- 
las Cowboys' rookie camp. They were 
screening twenty-eight flanker backs and 
ends because '.hey were desperate 'or la. 
eni in those positions. After a while, I no- 
ticed the only three blacks on the team just 
weren't catching the ball. II struck me that 
they were suffering from performance 
anxiety, that they were too-aroused for op- 
timum neuromuscular coordination. Fi- 
nally, during a short break, I approached 
them on the sidelines and said, "If you'll 
just listen to me, I think I can give you 
something you can use right now." Then I 
asked, "How do you speak to your lady 
when you're moving toward her and you 
want her 7 " Finally one guy said, "Okay, I'm 
moving toward her and I say, 'Hey, sweet 
levno baby, wait till I get you in bed.' " Each 
player had his own language or form of 
communication lor loving feelings. So I said, 

"Okay, now you're going to go back out 
there and run those patterns again for an- 
other hour. When you turn your back to the 
ball, I want you to say; 'Sweet loving baby, 
come to me; this is your big daddy,' or 
whatever words work lor you." Well, I'll be 
a son of a bitch: ;hoy went back out, and 
they all did beautifully. " 

They changed their relalionship with Ihe 
ball, from an adversarial to a receptive one. 
They did what they do naturally when they 
are at the appropriate level of arousal — for 
either romance or performance in sports. 
Frightened of not making the club, they 
were trying, loo hard. They were over- 
aroused and they were fighting them- 
selves. But by using the self-talk to alter 
their cognitions about their situation, they 
achieved harmony. Two of them made the 
team; one became sensational. 
Omni: Do individual performers have dif- 
ferent optimum levels of arousal? 
Ogilvie: While rdiaoie parameicrs of phys- 
iological tension exist for each sport, there 
are great differences among performers. 
In the locker room before a game, some 
athletes crave total silence, while others 
need verbal release. We tell coaches not 
to give the characteristic Knule Rockne- 
like fight talk because it will drive forty per- 
cent of the kids out of their skulls, to the 
point where they're out of control. Some 
relatively lethargic athletes may be helped 
by such coaching, but t's best to take them 
aside individually. 

Dick Bass of the San Diego Chargers 
football team" was a coach far ahead of his 
time. He wrole poetry on Ihe side. Before 
one big game he took his whole defensive 
backfield into the locker room, turned on a 
boom box, and let it rip. The kids were 
moving and swinging. I can't tell you what 
a violation ot coaching ph losophy that was! 
We're all supposed to huddle by our lock- 
ers, think intense II iDughls. and wait for the 
commander to come. But this guy got his 
players ready to go by getting them in con- 
tact with the feelings they needed for har- 
monious preparation. They didn't want to 
think about the game; they wanted to get 
lost in feelings that were elevating and en- 
riching. These players told me that no 
coach in their experience had been this 
permissive. And he was recognized as one 
of Ihe outstanding detensive coaches. 
Omni: How do you work with an athlete to 
get him to the right level of arousal? 
Ogilvie: First, you have to be very sure that 
the athletes are not actually underaroused. 
If they are, and you proceed to lower their 
arousal lurther, you'll only hurt their per- 
formance. If they are truly overaroused, I'll 
generally star; witn deep relaxation to get- 
all of the here-and-now garbage out of the 
way so. (he athletes car' move into subcon- 
scious levels. I let them be their own hyp- 
notists by means of a drill that lakes them 
into the deepest states of relaxation in ten 
minutes. I often use a strategy, which I call 
the Ogilvie psychological casure effect. I 
say, "I want you lo go oack inside your mind 
and lose tola' visual and emotional contact 


*One of the 
Avengers may be entombed 
in ice about 
)00 mites above the earth ^ 

Five TBM Avenger 

torpedo bombers left 

Air Stauon 

lar ,.ai 

land on waler) 



vey re 

a! a) 


n the planes' nri 

UFOs. Atterwat 
he noticed an c 
astronauts W h i 

UFO rose 
water to 

■ | f || 

'unded UFO 

going through ihe 
records ol Flight 19 
and- there is simply no 
he ii 
s says the 
craft originally headed 


Ought was the mainland 
iahamas. hea 

■ igersome 
. ihe object 

bit 7 Batsman theoi ed by Ihe 

Avengers may havt? damage - 1 ihe sea 

he asserts ann saving it s not an Avoi iger " '■ he is conclu- 
sive prool ■ r-'ERRY BAKER 

Can dreams clue us in to 
the mysteries ot the afterlife? 
After completing a study at 
2,500 dreams, Swiss psy- 
chologists Marie-Louise von 
Franz and Emmanuel Xipoli- 
las Kennedy say yes. 

The psychologists lound. 
tor instance, thai while many 
dreams about the afterlife 
simply illuminated a side of 
Hie dreamer, others seamed 
to take on an almost photo- 
graphic, supernatural qualily 
thai set them apart. "These 
dreams do appear to be 
encounters with postmortal 
souls," Kennedy declares. 
'After having Ihese dreams, 
people feel it Is the dead 
they have seen; the experi- 
ence convinces the dreamer 
of a lite after death." 

A similar quality, lire psy- 
chologists say. often turns up 
in the dreams at the termi- 
nally ill. According to Ken- 
nedy, the dying may appear 
rejuvenated in their dreams, 
or they may meet up with 
someone who is already 
dead. Either way, dreams of 
the dving "seem to Confirm lor 
the unconscious that im- 
pending death is not an end 
The ultimate goal appears 
to be Ihe union of the individ- 
ual sell with the archetypal 
self we think of as Ihe God- 
head. These dreams point to 
the notion ihat whatever is 
unresolved in this life must 
somehow go on, to be con- 
imued after death." 

Not everyone, however, is 
so sure. According to Mar- 
cello Truzzi director of the 
Center lor-Scientific Anoma- 
lies Research, in Ypsilanti, 
Michigan, "Claims of survival 
after death can obviously 

32 OMNI 

somebody being dead and 
then coming back There 

my other reason- 
able alternatives, including an 
intense dre.yi 

Kennedy and Von Franz, 
however, say that their study 
goes on. Anyone ir 
in participating can reach 
them at Spserstrasse 42. 
8738 Uetliburg SG, Switzer- 
land. -Sherry BaKer 

"Sensations a, 
dreams " 

— George Sanlayana 

1 ; Jcy of the 
ions, The decoding 
Da Lui says, comes 
1 sages and he; m its 

■ ■ ing his 
it depends i i 

It lakes 

nuclear war. A 
cycle promises 
and rebirth. 
aLm is correct, 
ily lime will tell. But he 
:ms lo know more (nan the 
lid His decidedly 
modern approach — pulling 
'ie predictions on video — is 

— Tracv Coi 

China, appeared in 1950. 
hi i rr -,r- 

Now Da L.i 
octogenarian Tai C 
is planning a videotape 
and popular book on these 
"silent predictions " which he 
says ate o 
K-mi . ,■/■■■" ol ■ ■ 

studies, the hiddt 
might be fear. 

To gel to the root of what 
he fell was an irrational 
resistance to psi, psychologist 
Harvey. Itwin of Australia's 
I . of New England 
questioned more than 100 
students. His finding a direct 
correlation between his 
subiecls' fear of psi and their 
■ etic or unsympa- 
ilude toward ESP re- 
I e more unsympa- 
tnenc the student the greater 
his or her fear of psychic 
phenomena. In some. Irwin 
found, the fear was rooted in 
the notion that if they pos- 
sessed psychic powers they 
might not be able lo control 
them. In others, fear stemmed 
from Ihe worry that Iriends 
or acquaintances with 
psychic abilities might read 
I heir thoughts. 

Surprisingly similar results 
have been found by psychol- 
ogist Charles Tart ol ihe 
University of California at 
Davis He surveyed several 
college students by asking 
them how they would respond 
it they suddenly found they 
possessed complete powers 

Qr psychokinesis 
Many were disturbed by Ihe 
prospect, focusing on 
whether they could control 
the power, whether they 
possessed the maturity to 
deal with [t, and whether lliey 
might be tempted to use if 
for malicious purposes. 
Tart also recently found thai 
even professional psychics 
harbored these concerns. 

Australia's Irwm stops 
snorl of saying that tear of 
psi is the motivating factor for 
the field's critics. "There is 
Hide scope here lot speculat- 
ing on the role of fear of psi 
in the motivation or 
of parapsychology,' he says. 
adding that he simply had 
too few professional skeptics 
ifi his sample. Tart, however, 
contends that "such hidden 
attitudes can destroy other ■ 
wise rational discussion 
and impede scientific prog- 
ress in understand ir 
applying psi '— D Scott Rogo 

■ imbillon 
o! ghosts, and to be 
remembered the ambition ot 
the dead" 

—Norman O. Brown 

The Pharaohs o\ ancieni 
Egypt spared no expense 
when ihey buili [he pyramids 


the Pharaohs erecte 

enormous structures remarns bel 

unclear, bul many be ■ 

thai Ihe architectural shape set 

itself creates an energj 

that heals the body & 1 1 

soothes ihe sou! 

These days 
to beaPharasI ■-■ ■ ■ 


you can now I 
oi your own personal pyra- 
mid of light. The conduit 

adjacent cry 
bulb shine- 

■ i rm the side- 

i Business Irip 

miles from home 

nly you're seized 


,i --:agi n '' : 
'-lorelronl astrologer 
street or nothing 
r is. those were the 
: mill now. 
Thanks to Miriam Larsen ol 
Garland Te*as 'Gday's 

■ ici 1.000 related 
s — from crystal 

! i to yoga 
■ 49 slates and on 
■ nl with the 

lea for the 

■ ouldfind 
one." She bs ja 
with the lew p: 

already knew and slowly 
increased her contacts 
through word-of-mouth. ex- 
amination of professional 
publications, and a few well- 
placed advertisements 
Within a year she had con- 
tacted people throughoul Ihe 
United States and was ready 
to compile her book 

While the directory may 
benefit those listed, not 
all psychics are satistied with 
Larsen's effort. Dallas psychic 
and missing -persons expert 
John Catchings. for instance. 
calls the book "a step in 
the right direction." 

But he expresses reserva- 
tions because Ihe book 
seems to. include just about 
everyone, without enough 
research into the practitioners' 
ethics or professionalism. 
"il is difficult lo know who is 
ethical and who is not." 
Catchings says, adding that 
he fears guilt by association 
when real "psychics are 
listed alongside fakes 

Larsen admits she cannot 
vouch for all the people 
listed But, she says, "I leel 
that most ot the people In this 
book are pretty good " A 
believer herself, she contends 
that "some people really 
have an ability. You could 
probably go to a good friend 
and they would tell you Ihe 
same thing Bui you're more 
likely to listen to someone 
you're paying.' 

For information on pur- 
chasing the $16.95 directory, 
contact Larsen at Box 3008. 
Garland, TX75047-30O8. 

—Ronald Gray 

"The natural order is our 
construction, our 


such tests ("Fveryone Knows," she says, 
"that a tomato plant can't get up and walk 
away"), distinctly unhappy. "The problem," 
she says, "is that neither side has Ihe data 
to support its. contentions, and those data 
are impossible to come" by without field 
tests. The issue has gone into a kind of 
gridlock, and the conflict has already cre- 
ated a two-year delay. Now we need some 
actual experiments to find out what's really 

push her own experiments toward com- 
pletion. Those who know her have little 
doubt that she will succeed: "When Ginny 
wants to achieve something," says her 
boss, Stanford biologist and department 
head Phillip Hanawalt, "nothing gets in her 
way." Leisure time is devoted to cultivating 
her own gardens and teaching courses in 
Italian garden design. There is little spare 
time, though. "Like most scientists," she 
says, "I work pretty much flat out." 

Walbot acknowledges '.hat her efforts 
may not directly end famine and starva- 
tion. "In large part these are problems of 
distribution," she says, "thai have to be 
worked out by politicians, not scientists." 
Nevertheless, she foresees her work as 
having a considerable impact on the 
world's ability to grow food. "If, for in- 
stance, we can expand the growing range 
of rice by just a couple of hundred miles," 
she says, "that can have an impact on a 
couple el hi:no:od -mi io n people. "- 

The house sits high on a hill overlooking 
Italy's Cecina River valley, afew miles from 
the small Pisan village of Montescudaio. 
Built as a chapel soi "o 300 years ago, the 
stone house and its picturesque view ol 
Ihe valley give its owner, philosopher of 
science Ervin Laszlo, "a sense of history 
and timelessness and a sense of cooper- 
ation between man and nature." 

Laszlo doesn't sound a warning bell 
against world destruction as Peter Raven 
does, nor- does he, like Virginia Walbot, 
probe the inner structure ot life. Instead he 
paints the larger picture, a grand synthesis 
between the orderly march of biological 
evolution and the seemingly capricious 
meanderings of human history. Evolution 
is an ongoing process, and Laszlo has 
drawn the corrections between what we 
humans are and what we should strive to 
become. He is an activist for the idea that 
we can play a role in our own evolution; we 
can choose between violent and dehu- 
manizing technology and technology 
based on a respect for life. 

Toward that goal Laszlo, a gracious, 
balding man in his fifties, has written, 
coauthored, and edited some 41 books as 
well as' more than 100 articles. He has 
earned a doctorate from the Sorbonne and 
has taught at Yale, Princeton, Northwest- 

96 OMNI 

'ern, and half a < ;ozen otnoi major universi- 
ties. He has directed the United Nations 
Institute for Training and Research and is 
a member of the Club of.Rome, one of the 
world's most influential scientific societies. 
Amazingly, he's done all this without so 
much as a high-school diploma. 

Laszlo's message is that ot a scientist 
who sees the pattern of evolution. In gen- 
eral, he says, evolution •moves along a path 
governed by two basic rules: Systems glow 
ever more complex and, at the same time, 
increasingly efficient at using the energy 
around Ihem to fuel their own processes. 
Thus the physical universe has evolved 
from particles like quarks and leptons into 
majestically complex star systems and 
galaxies, while the biological universe has 
moved from simpie one -celled animals into 
mammals and primates. Similarly, human 
societies evolved from proirsioric clans into 
the immensely compiex nation-states and 
global economic communities of the twen- 
tieth century. 

Q Laszlo 

believes we can play a role 

in our own 

- evolution; we can choose 

■ between violent 
and dehumanizing technology 
and technology 
based on a respect for //fe.5 

For humans Hi s complex, ty has an om- 
inous downside: With nuclear weapons, 
over population, and runaway technology, 
Laszlo says, "we are playing a hignly dan- 
gerous game, not only with the lives of all 
people but with the whole biosphere." To 
end this game short of global apocalypse, 
Laszlo has developed a series of strate- 
gies for scientists and lay people alike, 
keeping those recommendations purpo- 
sively broad— "an outline for action," he 
explains, "rather than a list of detailed pre- 
scr.piions ' Lay people must first realize that 
what they do influences the course of evo- 
lution. With that awareness, the individual 
can then take action along the lines ot his 
or her own interests and proclivities — join 
an environmental group, say, or become a 
jxiace aclivist. 

For scientists Laszlo's recommenda- 
tions are somewhat more specific: They 
should concentrate on-developing tech- 
nologies that .will enhance our abilities to 
communicate with one another, And they 
should make" every effort to efficiently ex- 
ploit such available and renewable energy 
sources as sun and. wind, rather than the 
more dangerous and limited energy 

sources depended on today. At the Same 
time, he says, we must be careful to keep 
those technologies "subservient to human 
values," such as decency, equality ot op- 
portunity, and social justice. 

With the acccca-.ed deve.oomcnt of this 
soft and essentially moral technology, with 
a widespread awarenes_s of the rules un- 
der which our evolution operates, Laszlo 
looks forward to what he calls a "major 
phase shift" in human social organization 
by the end of this century- -a purposeful 
move in the direction of a deeply humane 
and truly transnational society "We are Ihe 
crucial actors," he declares. "If we don't 
destroy ourselves, we can finally take des- 
tiny into our own hands." 

Toward thai goal Laszlo heads the Gen- 
eral Evolution Research Group, a band of 
independent scientists (Jonas Salk is an 
honorary member) who carry on debate 
and produce literature through a computer 
network, Relaxed, c-vsn concil atory in style, 
Laszlo's intellectual approach is, in the 
words of U.S. Naval Academy historian 
Robert Artigiani, "very much that of a mu- 
sician — elegant, simple, and direct." 

This is more than metaphor. For the first 
half ol his life. Laszlo's destiny seemed to 
lie not in philosophy but in music. Born in 
Budapest in 1933. he was a classical prod- 
igy, giving his first piano concert- at the age 
of nine. For 15 years Laszlo earned his liv- 
ing as a concert pianist. 

But the music was not enough to still 
Laszlo's restless mind. Even as a young 
man he was. fascinated by philosophical 
questions aboul the. contluence of evolu- 
tion and human history. "I fell I had to lo- 
cate myself in humanity," he says now. "I 
had been taught to be a concert pianist, 
and nobody around me had ever thought 
I would be anything else." And on New 
Year's Eve, 1960, he made a decision that 
changed his, as well as many other peo- 
ple's, lives: He went seriously into the phi- 

■ iosophy of science. 


Laszlo's philosophy finds hands-on 
expression in the work ot Rosalie Bertell. 
For 13 years she has actively campaigned 
'or pubic oelicies aimed al cleaning up the 
mess humans have made of the earth, 
"There: are currently one hundred fifty mil- 
lion tons of raoioaciivo maieoai circling Ihe 
world in the stratosphere," she says. "All 
that stuff is going :o g'acna'iy come down." 
At the same time, she says, "the Environ- 
mental Protection Agency has identiiied 
seventy-four thousand toxic-waste dumps 
in this country alone, and they can clean 
up only seven to eight a year. 

'The day ol being naiveabout things we 
can't.see or smell or taste is over," she de- 
clares. "We're in an era when those prob- 
lems-are becoming critical, and we're not 
taking care of them." 

Personally taking care o' social prob- 
lems has been a Berlel 'amily tradition. As 
a child, Rosalie remembers her mother 
resolutely stationing hersell a: bus stops in 

Buffalo's black neighborhoods because 
municipal buses would stop to pick up 
black passengers only if a white person 
were waiting. But streetside activism was 
only one element that influenced her. She 
was a talented violinist and pianist and, like 
Laszlo, had to choose between a musical 
or a scientific career. In addition, her family 
was deeply religious, and after earning a 
degree in mathematics and physics from 
Buffalo's D'Youville College, Bertell en- 
tered the Carmelite order of nuns. There 
she spent five years "learning how to raise 
food, dig irrigation ditches, and thread 
pipe." Then, a heart attack in her mid- 
twenties proscribed the Carmelites' hard 
manual labor She "transferred" to the Gray 
Nuns of the Sacred Heart, a Philadelphia 
community that specialized in teaching. Al 
the same time, she earned a Ph.D. in math 
and biometry (the mathematical analysis 
of biological data) at Catholic University in 
Washington and went lo work as an epi- 
demiologist at Roswell Park Memorial 
Cancer Institute near Buffalo, 

At Roswell she participated in a three- 
year study of leukemia rates in three states. 
It was this study that first alerted Bertell to 
the massive health hazards posed by low- 
level radiation. "We found that in as many 
as twelve percent of leukemia cases, med- 
ical X rays were implicated," she explains. 
"They were obviously the most important 
single factor. " In 1974 Bertell was called as 
a radiation expert to testify at a hearing on 
a proposed nuclear-power plant to be built' 
near Buffalo. Shocked by the utility's con- 
tention that the radiation released by the 
nuclear plant would be no worse than a 
few chest X rays — "I had just spent all that 
time finding out how dangerous medical X 
rays really were," she says — she began an 
impassioned and successful campaign 
against the building of the plant. 

Aroused by the utility's casual attitude 
and by the resulting personal controversy 
(Roswell Park tried unsuccessfully to fire 
her), Bertell launched a one-woman inves- 
tigation of the country's radiation stan- 
dards. The standards, she found, were es- 
tablished in the early Fifties by the 
International Commission on Radiological 
Protection, most of whose members were 
physicists and radiologists left over from 
the Manhattan Project. That commission, 
she says, still exists and still sets "safe" ra- 
diation limits, with membership that in- 
cludes no public-health experts. She also 
found, to her great surprise, that though 
the limited test-ban treaty of 1963 prohib- 
ited detonating nuclear weapons above- 
ground, it in no way prohibited the releas- 
ing of radiation from underground tests. 

Appalled by the facts and by the contin- 
ued pressure from Roswell Park, she fi- 
nally quit her job in 1978. It was a trying 
time: "I had no money," she recalls, "no 
secretary, no photocopier, no job." She. 
managed, however, to establish the Min- 
istry'of Concern for Public Health in Buf- 
falo. Now headquartered in a renovated 
factory in Toronto, Bertell's organization 

continues lo camp;-; cm acamst the dan- 
gers posed not only by radiation but also 
by toxic waste. 

Working from her airy office, with walls 
festooned with Greenpeace calendars and 
posters of doves as well as with her own 
handwoven peace banners, Bertell relent- 
lessly chips away at these massive prob- 
lems, responding to their enormity by at- 
tacking them in bite-size and generally 
manageable chunks. Although endlessly 
frustrated both by the ongoing search for 
money and by the lack of any really com- 
prehensive data on radiation effects, Ber- 
tell has been effective. Her organization has 
forced the government of Ontario to re- 
move 4,000 tons of radium-infesled soil 
from a suburban neighborhood near To- 
ronto and induced the government to buy 
out a large share of the 50 or so homeown- 
ers whose lives were being threatened by 
the dangerous waste. She has spurred the 
cleanup of a sulfur plant that was contam- 
inating the creeks on an Ojibway Indian 
reservation near Lake Huron and has 
helped persuade the U.S. government to 
"stabilize" uranium- mining tailings that were 
causing abnormally high birth-defect rates 
among Navaho Indians In Now Mexico. In 
the last few years her vision has become 
increasingly global. Her organization, for 
example, is now studying the deleterious 
effects of a rare-earth mine in Malaysia. 
(The so-called rare earths — yttrium and 
lanthanum are examples — are important 
elemenls in superconducting materials, bul 
they are also thought to have toxic effects 
on the human body.) 

Last year Bertell waii awarded the pres- 
:igii his Right I ivelihoocl Award, more com- 
monly known as the "alternative Mobel 
prize," a major international honor pre- 
sented to scientists for activist, rather than 
theoretical, work. "Her impact," says col- 
league Ursula Franklin, a physicist al the 
University of Toronto, "is far greater than 
one thinks. The very fact that people from 
utility companies now have lo be prepared 
in case someone questions them aboul 
their procedures has rsouced a significant 
amount of gross negligence," 

Although her constitution is less than ro- 
busl (the heari attack permanently dam- 
aged her heart), Bertell has never let poor 
health stand in the way of work. In fact, she - 
is usually described by colleagues who 
know her well as "extraordinarily ener- 
getic:" They also comment on her refusal 
to be overwhelmed by the enormity of the 
task she has taken on. In religious terms 
Bertell's goal isnothirg loss i nan global re- 
demption. "This little earth," she says "s 
just too small and fragile and polluted. We're 
seeing the death ol ihr; old system and the 
birthing of a globe consciousness. Either 
we learn," she. concludes, "or we go the 
way of the dinosaurs." 

The Rocky Mountain Institute, an airy, ul- 
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serves as home, office, farm, and labora- 
tory (or Hunler and Arnory Lovins.. II is also 
a thriving embodiment of the Lovinses' ide- 
als. Despite winter temperalures that reach 
-47", Ihere is no furnace. Instead, insu- 
lated walls and windows do the job. Light 
fixtures are ullrao"icieni: toilers flush on less 
than a gallon of water. All in all, Hunter 
swears, utility oils lo: the A ,00 0-squa re-foot 
building run a mere £30 a month. She also 
swears that mey could pay for the $650,000 
house in 40 years on energy savings alone. 
It's a far cry from the Silver Spring, Mary- 
land, basement where as a boy -Arnory 
walched his lather make a living by as- 
sembling and selling scientific instru- 
ments. "As a kid," Arnory says, "all I ever 
■knew was that I was going to be a scien- 
tist." So firm was thai conviction that as a 
young man and budding physicist, he was 
a firm supporter of the same nuclear-power 
technology that he now calls wasteful, 
dangerous, and impractically inefficient. 
His interest in ecology and energy policy 
began with a series of late-Sixties hiking 
irips in the wildly fieautifi.il Snowdonia Na- 
tional Park m Norlh Wales, which at the time 
was being threatened with destruction by 
copper-mining interests. 

Because neither Harvard nor Oxford, 
both of which he attended, offered any kind 
of systematic study of energy policy, he left 
without obtairvng a degree. "I've dropped 
out of two of ihe world s greal universities.'' 
he says wryly. But he continued studying 
the subject on his own. Soon he was writ- 
ing fat technical tomes and weighty arti- 
cles decrying the American tendency to 
blindly and expensively produce far more 
power than the nation actually needed— 
"cutting butter with a chain saw," he called 
it. In the wake of the oil crisis of the early 
Seventies, people began to pay attenlion, 
especially when he published his radically 
cornmonsensible ideas in a 1976 article in 
Ihe prestigious join ia-. ^orsign AHairs. 

In Ihe article, envied "Energy Strate- 
gies: The Road Not Taken?" the twenty- 
eight-year-old Lovins argued that by fol- 
lowing the "hard path" to energy supply- 
that is, centralized nuclear- power stations 
and massive exploitation of petroleum and 
coal reserves— America was being both 
profligate and economically shortsighted. 
It was energy at any price. Better to meel 
the world's energy demands cost-effi- 
ciently, he wrote, by pursuing a "soft path" 
in which renewable resources; such aw sun 
and wind would be exploited. If necessary 
they could be supported with small-scale, 
decentralizes hydroelectric installations. It 
was the longest article the magazine had 
ever published, and .fa inlluence reached 
far beyond Ihe usual audience of policy- 
makers and scholars. "With that article," 
Lovins says, "everything changed. I've 
been busv ever since." 

For Lovins, one of the more fortuitous 
side effects of "the article was its appeal to 
a young lawyer and sociologist named 
Hunter Sheldon. A Westerner whose love 
lor the outdoors dated from childhood 

98 OMNI 

family excursions:'! I ne Rockies and Sierra 
Nevadas. Sheldon had become interested 
n energy policy as a iaw sl.idont. After she 
road Lovins's article, a friend introduced 
them. They were soon working together. A 
year later they were married. 

Since then the Lovinses have embarked 
on a campaign to change America's en- 
nes Ihis has 
meant adding drama to their usually 
straightforward approach. On one such 
occasion Arnory and Hunter donned flow- 
ing red robes as they gave an impas- 
sioned sermon on energy conservation at 
the Cathedral of St. John Ihe Divine in New 
York City. Bui mostly it's as business con- 
sultants ihat they've been mosi effective. 
For example, one of their clients-, Southern 
California Edison, now spends virtually no 
money building new nuclear facilities, in- 
vesting reload in such scaled-down and 
"natural" alternatives as wind, solar, geo- 
thermal, and small hydroelectric facilities. 
Probably as a result, the company's stock 
has set new records each of the last five 
years. In Osage, Iowa, and Carbondale, 
Colorado, the Lovinses' "leak plugging" 
approach to energy efficiency has 
changed the energy landscape. Citizens 
continue to rave about the economic sav- 
ings derived from such simple strategies 
as window caulking and beefy insulation. 
The. Lovinses, though, have garnered 
their share of criticism. At least one energy 
economist maintains that their insistence 
that all utilities should look to alterhalive- 
energy sources <s impraehcal and unnec- 
essary. Others, like Thomas Kuhn of Edi- 
son Electric Institute, claim that Amory's 
figures are distorted. Few deny, though, that 
the couple has been effective. They serve 
as technical consultants to a number of lo- 
cal governments for which they've helped 
develop energy-saving suggestions for in- 
dividual consumers. In keeping with Amo- 
ry's experimental ;si background, they have 
even helped create innovative energy- 
saving hardware. 

The Lovinses' vision of the future is ap- 
pealingly benign — decentralized commu- 
nities that "farm" their own energy from a 
combination of rcr.cwatve sources: the sun, 
the wind, even the waves. Agriculture and 
forestry will not be used to pillage the land, 
but carefully controlled with the goal of 
"meeting the land's expectations." And 
people, too, the Lovinses believe, will 
change, abandoning the specialization that 
ivpifies todays world for a more general 
approach to life and learning. It is a vision 
they find themselves working toward, an 
idea they simply cannot give up. 

Like the Lovinses, the other scientists 
profiled here refuse to ignore the earth. 
They believe Ihat t's not loo late to change 
directions' and head off ihe destructive be- 
havior that has cnaracteri/od ihe twentieth 
century. And if the poet William Blake was 
right that lhose.."who would do another 
good must do so in minute particulars," 
these six scientific crusaders are proving 
the same is -rue for Planel Earth. DO 


was certain it would replace paper by 
1963," he recalls with dismay- 
Gradually the idea evolved into a system 
far more sweeping ,n scope than his own 
needs. "I figured r i didn't design a univer- 
sal electronic publishing system, IBM 
would, and they'd botch it," he says. 

Over the years Nelson was successful 
in persuading a loyal band of skillful com- 
puter hackers to work out the elegant file 
structure. necessary to make Xanadu work. 
With little institutional support (only small 
grants from the publisher Harcourt Brace 
Jovanovich, Inc., Ihe computer company 
Datapoint, and Brown University), the Xan- 
aduers have contributed their spare time 
to the project. Most of Nelson's volunteers 
have worked for top computer firms. Even 
the well-known superhackers Roger Greg- 
ory, a mathematician and former consul- 
tant to Ford, and Mark Miller, a former top 
programmer for Datapoint, have volun- 
teered for the project. Gregory, in fact, was 
listed as systems anarchist on a recent 
business card. Other hackers have donned 
the titles Linkwright, Data Post, and 

Despite the recent storage technology 
that has made Xanadu so attractive to the 
computer industry, a lag time exists before 
consumers will see software that allows the 
electronic acrobatics of hypertext. Several 
small personal computer companies are 
working on the necessary interface pro- 
grams. In time, though, the Xanadu system 
will be extended :o include graphics, mu- 
sic, computer-assisted design, 3-D, and 
zoom capability. 

"When the system is up to spec," says 
Nelson, "you'll be able to fly through an- 
cient Rome or under the sea or in outer 
space with your personal computer." (See 
Artificial Intelligence, August 1986.) 

But Nelson's real plan for the Xanadu 
technology lies in space. Before the year 
2025, he sees massive computer-storage 
satellites orbiting the earth, making avail- 
able the gigantic storage necessary for 
Xanadu. Then, he believes, present-day 
educational systems will be replaced by 
home terminals linked to the orbiting re- 
positories of international learning, avail- 
able to anyone with a computer. 

"I agree with Buckminster Fuller that we 
could all have I.Q.'s of three hundred that 
would be acquired culturally, not geneti- 
cally, by having easy access to informa- 
tion." says Nelson. 

Once Xanadu has made this easy ac- 
cess possible with the help of satellites and 
other massive storage bases, Nelson be- 
lieves that the nature of learning itself will 
begin to change. "The problem with edu- 
cation is that it's hierarchical. Teachers or 
the school system decide what's, impor- 
tant to study and what's not," he explains. 
"But Xanadu lets you decide which con- 
nections to make. You decide what's im- 
portant to you." DO 

Tfe© Attti&l 


Incredible / 
There seems to be 
no end to your tabnt 


) V 


c --— ^ii^^zA 

X wouldn't 

I still can't walk on water 



attendants) recogn./ed n Andy's behav- 
ior a problem he had been taught to cope 
with. "Sir!" he said, bustling down the aisle 
officiously, breaking stride to stub out the 
cigarette in an armrest ashtray in the 
smoking section, then bustling forward 
again. "Sir, please try to be . . . calmer. 
There are other washrooms that aren't oc- 
cupied." (In fact, there were nol, but May- 
nard did not know thai.) "Use one ol those." 
"That's not the problem," Andy ex- 
plained. "The problem is, there's a woman 
inside there, and I think she's fainted." 

Maynard was able only with difficulty to 
fix his attention on Andy's definition of the 
problem— i.e., that a woman had fainted in 
the toilet — rather than on the problem pre- 
sented by his senses to his disbelieving 
mind — that a semii.-areioarent woman was 
hanging right in front of him, her knees level 
with his nose. 

"Do you have a key for the washroom?" 
Andy prompted. 
"Right. Yes. I do." 

Looking closely, Maynard could see that 
the ghostly woman's stomach would rise 
and fall ever so slightly, as though she — or 
it — were breathing. 
"Then could you get it?" said Andy. 
"Right. Sure thing." 

While Maynard returned to the service 
area for the master key that unlocked the 
bathroom doors, the image of Mrs. Vow" 
tilted sideways, like a helium balloon that 
has slipped from the mooring of its string, 
and drifted slowly along the aisle in dream- 
like pursuit of the flight attendant. All the 
passengers — excepiing the five or six who 
were dozing — regarded the passage of the 
spectral woman with the hushed, unwav- 
ering attention they would have given a 
bomb squad's investigation of a ticking 
suitcase. She — or it— did not remain in- 
flexibly bent into the posture of micturition. 
It assumed instead the attitude of a body 
floating in a stream— of Millaiss Ophelia, 
in fact, as Mrs. Vow would have observed 
had she been present to describe the 
scene to Dr. Tumi. Its hair and panty hose 
rippled in the invisible current like fila- 
ments of cigarette smoke. 

Maynard, returning with the bathroom 
master key, was obliged to hunch down as 
he passed under the visionary ligure to 
avoid brushing against it, Despite this pre- 
caution, his near passage set up eddies in 
the stream of air supporting the wraith so 
that its arms and legs flailed about, as a 
corpse might in going through rapids. One 
spectral hand encountered the grille of a 
ventilator above an unoccupied- seat. There 
was a swooshing sound, as when a vac : 
uum cleaner sucks up the edge of a car- 
pet, and then — slowly at first, then quite 
quickly — the entire body was siphoned up 
into the ventilating system. 
What they found when they unlocked the 

bathroom door was not the unconscious 
Mrs. Vow. They found nothing but a small 
puddle of what resembled a strawberry 
milk shake in the aluminum basin of the 
sink. Maynard rinsed the vomit— what else 
could it have been?— down the dram and 
cleaned every surface ol the washroom 
with paper towels. People. Maynard re- 
flected, who think that flight attendants 
have a glamorous job should consider the 
statistic- on airsickness. 

"I saw her go in here," Andy insisted. 

Maynard shook his head with affable 
denial. "Then she must have come out 
again when you weren't looking." 

"I was standing right in front of the door. 
And anyhow, you saw yourself, the door 
was locked. How do you explain that?" 

More than anything else, Maynard 
needed lo be left alone. "I'm sorry," he said. 

"You'll have to excuse me. I've got to go lo 
the toilet myself." 

He entered the washroom, closed the 
door in Andy's face, locked it. and sat down 
on the lowered to is: seal and began to cry. 
He cried quietly and, as fast as they welled 
up, wiped away the tears with tissues from 
the dispenser beside the mirror. 

Meanwhile, unseen by him, helices of 
vapor, delicate as the root hairs of a seed- 
ling plant, began to rise from the drain of 
the sink and to twine before the mirror in 
the first tentative hypotheses whose sum 
would become, for a certain time, iso- 
morphic to the form of the distraught and 
groggy Maynard Ellis. 

It was now twenty minutes since Mal- 
colm had left the cockpit to answer na- 
ture's — and Amanda Conklin's — call. Barry 

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Anderson understood, in a theoretical way, 
that in situations of extreme crisis or threat- 
ened disaster, people are prone to cash in 
their last lew chips of consciousness at the 
exchange of sex. Yet as many times as the 
sinking ol the Titanic had been made into 
a movie, that aspect of catastrophe always 
got bumped by "Nearer, My God, to Thee." 
Barry didn't object to Malcolm's temporary 
dereliction of duty (what were they sup- 
posed to do, after all?); he just wished he'd 
be speedier. Barry wanted a cup of cotfee. 
He was as sleepy as a four-year-old at a 
midnight showing of Tristan und Isolde. II 
there'd been a road, his eyes would defi- 
nitely not have been on it. 

Though there was not a road for Barry 
to look at, there was atiny, greenish some- 
thing up ahead in the gray of the cloud. A 
dot. It was set square in the middle of the 
lane Barry would have been driving in if 
this were a road and he were a bus driver. 
The dot grew and took on the features of 
another plane. Of, in fact, another 747. 

Here it comes, Barry told himself. This is 
it. All the earlier strangenesses must have 
been a hallucination provoked retroac- 
tively by his present panic. Or else the col- 
lision had already happened, and his dying 
mind had thrown up a defensive screen of 
false memories to prepare itself for the un- 
faceable fact of death. He seemed to re- 
call having seen a movie to that effect on 
The Late, Late Show long, long ago. 

This seemed a better theory than any 

Barry had come up with so far. but fortu- 
nately the airplane in the air lane ahead did 
not behave in a manner to bear out his the- 
ory. Instead it coasted to a stop af what 
would have been a polite conversational 
distance if the noses of the two planes had 
been human noses. And there it sat. as this 
plane was sitting, motionless in midair, an 
affront to reason and the law of gravity. 

"You can't do that," Barry explained to 
the untenable 747, "It isn't—" he paused to 
savor the idea "--allowed." 

Barry noticed two things about the 
plane— or counter-plane — in front of him. 
He noticed that the airline's emblematic 
markings— as much as could be seen of 
them from this angle— were rendered in 
faintly contrasling bands ol gray and darker 
gray instead of in red and blue. And he 
noticed that the cockpit of the other plane 
was empty. So much, therefore, for the 
possibility that he was seeing some kind 
of freak reflection formed by the cloud; for 
if the plane ahead were a mirror image, a 
mirage, then where was Barry's image in 
the window facing him? 

Just as he posed this question to him- 
self, Barry saw the door to the cockpit of 
the counter-plane open and a woman en- 
ter. A cat was cradled in her arms. She ap- 
proached the window, bent down, and 
looked ahead, wrinkling her brow as though 
Ruzzled by what she saw. 

Was it he that she saw? Barry won- 
dered. To find out he raised his right hand 

"Gosh, it mu'si loaiiy oe exciting in work a- a crash dummy, 
but I understand if you'd rather not talk about it." 

in the manner ol an Indian saying "How," 
The woman— it was Mrs. Vow — waved 
back. This was the opportunity His Mibs 
had been waiting for. With only one of her 
arms confining him, he sprang loose and 
dashed back to the first-class cabin to take 
refuge in the shadowy, cat-proportioned 
realm formed by the raws and rows of 
empty seats. He kept thinking that lights 
would come on, a camera would roll into 
position, and a bowl of his sponsor's food 
would be set down before him. But none 
of these desired events took place. The 
woman who'd awakened him and taken him 
from his seat was walking up and down the 
aisles calling out the familiar and ever-to- 
be-dreaded warning call of her kind. 
"Pussy! Pussy! Here, Pussy!" 

Mrs. Vow had decided she was dream- 
ing but could not decide when the dream 
had begun. The entire plane flight could 
not be a figment of her unconscious mind. 
She could remember too clearly all the de- 
tails along the way: packing the suitcases, 
the delay in the departure lounge, her con- 
versation with Dr. Tumi after takeoff. The 
only discontinuity (but it was so inconsid- 
erable, the merest hairline fracture) had 
been those few moments in the bathroom 
when she'd felt faint. If she had in fact 
fainted But did one ever in a dream- 
especially so strange a dream as this- — 
did one ever know oneself to be dream- 
ing? Not in her experience, but then, she 
usually forgot everything about her dreams 
within moments of waking. 

More to the point, could she stop dream- 
ing? Could she will herself awake? 

"Wake up," she told herself experimen- 
tally, feeling an utter fool. Nothing changed. 
The tourist-class cabin remained as empty 
of its passengers and flight attendants as 
it had been when Mrs. Vow had stepped 
out of the bathroom. 

"Wake up, damn it," she said with more 
vigor. "This is all a dream]" There was no 
need, she reasoned, to act reasonably if 
there was no one observing her. If this were 
a dream, it would be quite all right to 
scream. So she did: "Wake up!" 

There was a loud sneeze, followed by an 
outraged cry of "Get of! me!" 

His'Nibs leapt from his comfortable 
perch in the lap of Sister Fidelis, sighted 
Mrs Vow approaching, and took cover un- 
der seats 25G, 24G, 24H, 23H, etc. 

Sister Fidelis, in very ill temper, got to her 
feet (she'd slumped sideways in her sleep, 
which is why Mrs. Vow had not noticed her 
before) and brushed at her habit energet- 
ically where the cat had been nestling. "I 
do believe," she said, more to herself than 
to Mrs. Vow, "that cats can tell when a per- 
son is allergic to them. It's an instinct they 
have. How else can they always—" The fact 
thai the cabin was almost empty finally im- 
pinged, "But good heavens— we've 
landed! Why didn't someone wake me? 
Where's Sister Incarnation?" 
"1 wish I were able to answer your ques- 

tons," said Mrs. Vow. "I'm as much in the 
dark as you. But I don't think we've landed." 
Sister Fidelis frowned, as though Mrs. 
Vow had just been guilty of an off-color joke. 
"Of course we've landed. That much is ob- 
vious. Though I can't understand how Sis- 
ter Incarnation could have gone off and left 
me asleep in my seat. And where is the 
stewardess? She took my bag from me, and 
I've no idea what she did with it." 

"We two appear to be the only people 
on the plane. Three, counting the cat." 

Sister Fidelis darted a look of theologi- 
cal odium at Mrs. Vow. 
"Cats are not people." 
Mrs. Vow laughed and then— too late to 
avoid giving offense— slit led her laughter. 
■ She decided she'd best let the disgruntled 
nun explore the plane for herself and come 
to her own conclusions. If this were a 
dream, then whatever the nun did or said 
was really a manifestation of her own, Mrs. 
Vow's, unconscious mind. As now, when 
she glowered at the sealed exit door in the 
areaway between the tourist- and first-class 
cabins, she was expressing Mrs. Vow's 
general sense of entrapment by the cir- 
cumstances of her life. But why a nun? 
Something to do with sexual repression, 
surely, though Mrs. Vow was not conscious 
of any present dissatisfactions in that area. 
On the contrary. Dr. Tumi was the kind of 
lover— Bacchus, Solomon, and Galahad in 
equal parts— one did not expect to en- 
counter outside the pages ol a Silhouette 
romance. Perhaps it was simply her name 
that engendered the idea of a nun. If so, 
then she might provoke an interpretable 
response by introducing herself. "My name 
is Mrs. Vow," she said, significantly. The nun 
stood by the window nearest the sealed 
exit, peering querulously into the envel- 
oping cloud. 

"And what's yours?" Mrs. Vow prompted. 
. Sister Fidelis looked up, bristling at this 
most pertinent and impertinent of ques- 
tions like-a proper Turandot or Rumpelsiilt- 
skin. But at last good manners won the day, 
and she answered, "Sister Fidelis." 

"That means faithful, doesn't it? As in 
Adeste Fidelis.' My given name is Maisie, 
after the novel by Henry James. My father 
taught English at Princeton and worshiped 
James. I always wondered, if there had 
been a second daughter, would he have 
saddled her with Casamassima?" That was, 
in fact, a fib; she'd never wondered any 
such thing. But in a dream— and in talking 
to strangers on planes — one is free to in- 
vent another life for oneself. 

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talk- 
ing about," said Sister Fidelis. 'And this joke 
has gone on quite long enough. I'd like to 
get off this plane. Now!" 

It did nol seem well-bred, even in a 
dream, to tell someone you believed your- 
self to be dreaming, since that would make 
the other person no more than a figment of 
your own imagination. There had to be a 
kinder way to suggest to Sister Fidelis that 
they were not really on a plane but rather 
on another plane of existence. Perhaps she 

could find, in her father's phrase, "internal 
evidences" within the cabin of the 747 by 
which itcould be shown not to be real. And 
there was, now that she thought aboul it, a 
thinness to everything about her, a lack of 
texture and nuance— as though the whole 
interior of the aircraft had been formed by 
some absentmmded geometer from vats 
of pink and baby-blue putty. But no, that . 
proved nothing, for planes were designed 
on purpose to give such an impression, by 
way of lulling the passengers' anxieties. 

While Mrs. Vow continued in this vein of 
episiemologica 1 . reverie, Sister Fidelis tres- 
passed cautiously into the first-class cabin, 
thence into the cockpit, where she saw 
what Mrs. Vow had seen earlier: the other 
747 that had been parked nose to nose 
with this one. The odd thing was that though 
she could see the other plane quite clearly, 
a thick ground fog prevented her from 
seeing the runway on which the two planes 
must be resting. For they could not simply 
be hanging suspended, motionless, in the 

• Amanda 
reached down and touched the 

simulated cat, 

'which instantiy dispersed into 

tendrils of vapor 

that spitted over the edge of 

the seat like 
water spilling from a fountain.^ 

middle of the air, like a pair of humming- 

cockpit, jumped up into the pilot's seat, 
placed his forepaws on the back of the seat, 
arched his back, and purred ingratiatingly. 
It was time for lunch. But the woman in the 
delicately scented gray clothes paid him 
no heed and tried only to swat a non- 
existent fly that lighted first on her fore- 
head, then on her stomach, and then on 
each oi her shoulders in turn. 

'And then — " 

Then her narrative ran aground on the 
impossibility of her explaining to this poor 
man what she had seen next. What they 
had all seen. 'This will sound incredible," 
she said, by way of preface. 

"More incredible than all the rest?" Dr. 
Tumi asked. 

She nodded. Then remembering that he 
' couldn't see her (and did not know, there- 
fore, that she was a nun, for in the rush of 
becoming acquainted they hadn't intro- 
duced themselves), Sister Incarnation an- 
swered, "Yes. Or no— not more than all the 
rest Because I haven't got to the other 

things, such as the way people are falling 
asleep in the midst ol everything." 
"Yes, I've heard them snoring." 
"We may be the only two still awake. 
Which is why I came to talk to you." 

"And I'm grateful that you did. But don't 
let me interrupt. Please, go on." Quite as 
though he could see, he placed his hand 
on hers where it was grasping the end of 
the armrest. His fingertip rested on the ring 
by which she'd become a bride of Christ. 
Reluctantly, from a sense of simple duty 
(for the man deserved to know what had 
become of his companion), Sister Incar- 
nation described the appaniio" of Mrs. Vow 
outside the washroom and its passage, 
down the aisle and into the mouth of the 
ventilator. "Of course," she concluded, "it 
could only have been a hallucination." 
"But all of you saw it?" 
"We all saw something. No one took the 
time to compare notes as to what exactly 
they saw. But they did open the door to the 
washroom right afterward, and . . . and 
there was no one there. And later I heard 
one of the flight attendants say the same 
thing had happened to the pilot and , . , 
Miss Conklin. Apparently they'd gone into 
a washroom . . . together." 

"So far that is the most probable part of 
the whole story." 

The crinkle lines around his eyes laughed 
in a way that was both good-humored and 
suggestive, and Sister Incarnation realized 
that despite his years and his blindness he 
was an uncommonly handsome man. He 
must have become blind late in life, since 
those who are born blind rarely develop 
that liveliness of nuanced expression that 
is at the root of the idea ol "good looks." 

"My name is Eltore, by the way," he said, 
with a tightening of his grip on her hand 
that could be interpreted as a handshake. 
"That's Italian for Hector." 

"Mine is . . . Mary." It was not a lie, only 
a partial truth. 

"So," he said, relaxing his grip and cre- 
ating, by the backward inclination of his 
head, a more comfortable emotional dis- 
tance between them. "How do you ac- 
count for all this?"_ 

"Accountfor it!" She could actually laugh 
at the suggestion. But then, with the laugh- 
ter, an idea came to her. Not a likely idea, 
but one that she, as a nun, could not dis- 
miss out of hand. "Well, it might be— now 
it's your turn to laugh at me, Ettore. It might 
be thai we're in the hands of God." 

"And we are the cards, so to speak, with 
which the Almighty is practicing his sleight 
of hand?" 

"I must admit that this isn't how I was 
brought up to expect God to behave." She 
ran her right hand, unseen, down the length 
of her black veil. "But then," she continued, 
"He is under no obligation to conform to 
my expectations. There is a book I've al- 
ways meant to read. It's a large paperback 
in the theology section of our college 
bookstore, and I don't recall the author, only 
the title, which is The Cloud ol Unknowing. 
Could we have entered the cloud of urn 

knowing? To which, I suppose, one can only 
answer, Who knows?" 

His smilG rippled through his expressive 
ilesh like sunlight flitting across the iloor of 
a forest— evanescent yet ever present 

"My own nonexplanation would be that 
we've entered the fourth — or fifth or sixth — 
dimension. It amounts to much the same 
thing as the cloud of unknowing, doesn't 
it? As who would say,, 'Here in terra incog- 
nita, wonders never cease'?" 

"Perhaps the oddest element in all of 
this," Sister Incarnation added, "odder even 
than the disappearances of people from 
their seats and from the washrooms, is the 
way that there's been no panic among 
those of us still left behind. My companion 
■ on this trip— who, by the way, was one of 
the first who vanished from the plane— is 
a teacher at the same school where I teach. 
And she likes to pose this problem to her 
classes: What ought one to do if one knew 
for a certainty that the world would be 
coming to an end within the next hour?" 

"That is a question everyone has had to 
consider in the nuclear age. And what does 
she propose tor life's final hour?" 

"Oh, there's no single answer. She says 
we should all proceed al our usual tasks at 
our usual pace, whether that be teaching 
a class or reading a book or whatever." 

"I'm not such a stoic myself. I can still 
remember how I spent the forty-eight or so 
hours of the Cuban Missile Crisis, and it 
wasn't writing a budget proposal. No, if I 
felt convinced that the world was coming 
to an end, I'd try and have one last good 
luck while there was still time." He paused 
long enough for this to register as an invi- 
tation, then asked, "How about you?" 

Everyone else on the plane was sleep- 
ing, and he was blind, and God didn't seem 
to be keeping up his end of the bargain, 
since nothing in Roman Catholic theology 
-could explain the present situation. And for 
all these years since she'd taken her vows, 
the single sin she'd had to confess over 
and over was her regret for never having 
had sex with Gerald McCarthy when the 
opportunity had presented itself on the 
evening ol May 24, 1967, and wasn't that a 
ridiculous sin to be damned for? How did 
the saying go? As welhhang for a sheep 
as for a lamb. Deftly she removed her wim- 
ple and dropped it into an empty seat. 

"That's always been my feeling, too," she 
said, with the bravado of innocence. "Why 
not go into the cockpit? There's no one 
there, and it's roomier than the- washrooms." 
He held out his hand to her, and she took 
it with the most intense, the tingliest sense 
of accomplishment. Just like the tremor of 
self-wonder she'd felt when, despite all her 
forebodings, she'd passed her road test 
and gotten her driver's license. Now she 
would experience the substance of which 
that had been Ihe mere emblem. Her life 
had turned out to have a major surprise. 

For a few moments after waking in the 
seat beside Sister Fidelis she could re- 
member the main oui lines of the dream. To 

have been vowoc to chastity so long and 
still to harbor such concupiscence! And 
with a blind man! How strange his tongue 
had felt when he — 

But to remember, to linger over such 
imaginings was sinful, though the dream 
itself was innocent. She willed herself to 
think of other matters. As the plane tilted to 
the right, circling in for a landing, she leaned 
across Sister Fidelis to' look at the city's- self- 
formed map of roofs and roads. 

"Why, look at the dome of the ballpark!" 
she exclaimed. "It's just like ours at home." 

"It is ours at home," said Sister Fidelis 
dryly. "If you hadn't been asleep, you'd have 
heard the announcement. We've had to turn 
back. The pilot won't say why, but we're not 
supposed to worry." 

"You mean that I've slept through the en- 
tire drama?" 

"I sincerely hope so." 

Meaning, Sister Incarnation understood, 
that she hoped the drama was over and 
was not to have a tragic denouement. Sis- 

<mHe entered 
the washroom and dosed the 

door In Andy's 

' face, locked it, and sat down 

and cried quietly. 

As fast as they welled up, he 

wiped away the tears 

with tissues from the dispensed 

tor Fidelis was ci'.struaiful of airplanes. 

"I had the strangest dream," she said, 
brightly, trying to divert her companion from 
thoughts of a crash landing. "And it all took 
place here on the plane." 

"Really?" said Sister I idelis guardedly. 

"But for the life of me I can't remember 
any of the details." 

Sister Fidelis made a cough of polite 
disinterest and turned to face the window. 
The plane was now skimming the gray, 
cloud-mirroring waters of an artificial lake-. 
She, too, had had a dream, but one too 
sinful to speak of- Yet too vivid to lorget. 
especially those last moments when she 
had stood outside the window of the cock- 
pit, a voyeur to the act of sexual congress 
between Sister Incarnation and a naked, 
while-haired man, the same who now was 
seated (clothed) some five rows back talk- 
ing to the woman in the tailored suit. She 
. had been in the dream, too, but in the ca- 
pacity of a guardian ange',, reminding Sis- 
ter Fidelis of her vows. 

The wheels.Of the plane connected vio- 
lently with the runway, the cabin shud- 
dered, and the passengers breathed a 
collective sigh of relief. 


In a place that was not really a place, 
being outside of space as we know it and 
similarly situated with respect lo lime, two 
macrocosmic entities — which will be des- 
ignated here, for convenience's sake, as 
demiurges— had concluded a lively game 
of Palindrome and were feeding their re- 
sulting macrocosm into RAM. 

"Well, that was fun," said the first demi- 
urge. (The dialogue that follows must be 
understood as being in the highest sense 
approximate; demiurges do not speak col- 
loquial English, except when they manifest 
themselves in an angelic or demonic char- 
acter.) 'As often as I've run through this one, 
I've never hit on that solution. And it yields 
a really terrific score." 

"Even so," said the second demiurge, 
who was some eons younger and had had 
little firsthand experience of this particular 
recreational pastime, "I'm not sure it's a 
valid solution." 

"01 course it is. The exit line is a perfect 
palindrome that is now true in this universe 
and in no other. If you don't believe it, I'll 
run through the endgame for you." 
"Just explain how you got to the exit line." 
"Nothing simpler. Once the nun with the 
red guitar case gets back to her convent — 
you remember her name, don't you 7 " 
"Sister Incarnation?" 
"Mm-hm. That should have given the 
game away from the start. Especially with 
that other nun sitting beside her muttering, 
' 'Blessed is the fruit of thy womb: Womb 
and tomb being such apposite rhymes, 
and Ihe whole palindrome hinging on the 
Line word Tumi."' 

"Oh, I see that. But how do you justify 
the initials U and 7"? The doctor's given 
names are Ettore and Alessandro." 

"Yes. but his son will be christened Ulise 
Tennyson Tumi. Whence I'm U. T. Tumi, a 
perfect palindrome." 
"His son?" 

'As I was Irying to oxoia.n, when this Sis- 
ter Incarnation gets back to her convent, 
she'll find out she's pregnant. And nuns, of 
course, never have abortions." 

"How can she be pregnant if her fling 
with Tumi took place on the 747 in the 
erased macrocosm?" 

"Because her genes were unspooled 
and reassembled after the moment of con- 

"Okay. But that still leaves ihe naming of 
her anomalous offspring unexplained. I 
mean, here's this nun in a convent with no 
idea how she got pregnant. All she re- 
members is a vague [.lie-am she had on an 
airplane. How does she know to call her 
son Ulise Tennyson Tumi?" 

'Ah, that's the romantic part. You see, 
when Sister Fidelis learned of her compan- 
ion's pregnancy and was apprised of the 
'dream' that the distraught mother-to-be 
offered as explanation for her condition (a 
dream that corresponded in significant 
details with her own), she undertook to track 
down Dr. Tumi as being the likeliest can- 
didate for the honor of paternity. How Dr. 

Tumi reacted to Sister Fidelis's visit (the 
rules of the game do not permit him lo re- 
tain any recollections oi his lite in the erased 
macrocosm, even as dream fragments) 
and how he courted and came lo be mar- 
ried to Sister Incarnation— all lhat is quite 
droll but scarcely worlh the bother of work- 
ing oul in every detail." 

"Hey, I thought you were just crowing 
about the score we racked up," objected 
the younger demiurge. 

"Oh, it's a good score— for such a pif- 
fling game. Consider, what have we ac- 
tually done? Created a subuniverse in 
which a fated air crash has been averted 
and in which one individual is to be born 
who does not exist elsewhere in creation, 
' Scarcely the stuff that destiny is made of" 
"But who's to say that this U. T. Tumi won't 
turn out to be anolher Albert Einstein, an- 
other Jean-Pierre Rampal, another Vince 

"Although the odds favor his being an- 
other Miniver Cheevy, unnoticed in his life 
and forgotten after his death. A mayfly." 

"But with his own special subuniverse 
created just for him. Surely that's part of 
the beauty of the game." 

"Indeed. But I do wish I could persuade 
you to expand your event horizon and move 
on to the next level of difficulty. Palindrome 
II is— " 

"Wait a minute. We're getting a readout 
that says game one incomplete." 

"Oh, drat. I hope we won't have to go 
back to that first macrocosm and trim the 
wreckage of the plane with corpses. That's 
not a demiurge's work." 

"That couldn't be it; we erased that ma- 
crocosm, we didn't just tinker with it." The 
demiurge pressed the key marked with a 
question mark. Within the core of the sun 
there was a correspond' ng lurbulence, then 
on the screen before the demiurge a mes- 
sage appeared: epigraph required. 

"Oh,, if that's all that's the matter," said 
the first demiurge, "1 have just the thing. 
Some quatrains from Cowper's Olney 
Hymns. They're familiar but quite apt. Here, 
let me key them in." 

The first demiurge sat down belore the 
screen (whereupon a star in the Coalsack 
Nebula went nova) and typed: 

God moves in a mysterious way, 

His wonders to perform; 

He plants his footsteps in the sea, 

And rides upon the storm. 

Deep in unfathomable mines 

Of never failing skill, 

He treasures up his bright designs, 

And works his sovereign will. 

Ye fearful saints fresh courage take, 

The clouds ye so much dread 

Are big with mercy, and shall break ■ 

In blessings on your head. 

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, - 

But trust him for his grace; 

Behind a frowning providence, 

He hides a smiling face. 


Once the epigraph from Cowper had 
been added to their completed macro- 
cosm (for the delectation ot the Supreme 
Creator, who loves to be praised in verse, 
provided it is rhymed), the two demiurges 
returned the game to the macrobox marked 
palindrome i- 747, put it back on its shelf, 
and took down the macrobox beside it, 


They fed the game disk into their macro- 
processor. Throughout an inlinite subset of 
multiverses, time slipped into reverse. Suns 
sucked up then diss : p^cd energies. Black 
dwarfs glowed red again. Novas surren- 
dered the planets they'd incinerated, and 
the great fleets of ships that had brought 
the all-conquering armies of Napoleon to 
the British Isles in a.d 1822 retreated to the 
shores of Normandy and were decon- 
structed by hordes of French workmen who 
grew ever giddier at the reapproaching 
victory of Waterloo. 

The battle itself was unfought. Welling- 
ton's sword was returned to his hand and 
Blucher revived, together with the dead of 
both armies. 

Once again it was the morning of June 
16, 1815. The emperor stood at the crest of 
a low ridge facing Mont-Saint -Jean. On the 
slopes below him he could see the array 
of his own troops, seventy-four thousand 
strong. Beyond them the long red line of 
Wellington's army invited attack, like a bride 
attired for her bridegroom. 

He felt supremely capable. Today he 
would prove that the months of enforced 
retirement to Elba had not unmanned him. 
His glory would surpass that of Caesar or 
Alexander, and this little village of Waterloo 
would be the keystone of that glory. 

Low in the sky above Mont-Saint- Jean a 
gray cloud appeared. As it moved down 
the slopes toward the French troops, like 
the dust raised by the hooves of an invisi- 
ble cavalry, the emperor gave the order to 



,.■■...■■ , ■. ■ ■ i 

i=:«:iales. page 24, At: Hcsoi.rce: page 2B left, Psw. 

corporriltid: page 28 rk;l!l. :.■■■ 

page 29 left 
age 29 right, Rink Friedman/Black Star; page 30 left, 

■■'.. p;ios ny:>i. r„j ■ - 


,,..., .;■-... :,: ,,■..: I... ;■-,,.. M. 

.„;;"?': ,."":''.' 

i ,'."".,.: i, ■- ■ 'y 

r.;i.,.v,., -,..i.-,-,c;il :..■:■■:;■...■ -h ;■!■>.; r: ■!■■,* ■ 

:■ , ,.i : ... ■ .!■ ... .: i "' ■■■ ■■ ;■ ■ 

, .. . ■ ■ . :, :.,. ■' . ., 

c .:l A---, v.:? patje 6:1 Top. : !'■■ ■:.;■. :■.:,!■ ".-.■ 

" ' '■■'■':'■■ ,: " ' ' ''.■'..■ 

.:IO'.-.s> 5? from top, I li' sr.d Kir: Man. --,ir:i Coipo- 

1. (B-A). Lines of latitude are the "par- 
allels" that specify distance north and south 
of the equator. The vertical lines are lon- 
gitude—they're all equally long— and are 
used to measure distance east and west 
of a central meridian. 

2. (AB-B). Both are camels. The one- 
humped Arabian camel, or dromedary, is 
bred tor speed and trained for riding. The 
two-humped Bactrian camel is found in 
Souihwest Asia. 

3. (B-A). The Alrican elephant is the 
larger species, with much larger ears. 

4. (A-B) 5. (B-A) 

6. (B-A). The alligator has a broad head 
that doesn't taper into a long snout like the 
crocodile's. When its mouth is closed, the 
teeth fit into pits in the upper jaw. 

7. (A-B). Mnemonic: Slalacf ites stick right 
to the celling; stalagmites stand mighty on 
the ground. 

8. (B-A) 9. (B-A) 10. (B-A) 
11. (B-A) 12. (B-A) 

13. (B-A). Mnemonic: The letter y seems 
to be reaching upward, in the manner of 
an ordained priest reaching to heaven. For 
the x-axis, think of the x as a multiplication, 
or "times," symbol. The words abscissa and 
ordinate are also in the same alphabetical 
order as x and y. 

14. (A-B), This is often confusing, per- 
haps because the "natural" mnemonic 
goes the wrong way. 

15. (B-A) 16. (A-B) 17. (A-B) 
18. (A-B) 19. (A-B) 20. (B-A) 
21. (A-B) 22. (B-A) 23. (A-B) 

24. (B-A). Slander is oral; libel is written. 
Think of libel in a library. 

25. (B-A). Assault is the threat of force 
or violence; battery is the act. 

26. (B-A). Centripetal force is inward, 
toward the center of rotation; centrifugal 
force (think of it as a "fugue" from the cen- 
ter) is outward. 

27. (A-B) 28. (A-B) 29. (AB-A) 

30. (A-B). The mule is sterile and cannot 
reproduce; each is an individual hybrid. 

31. (A-B) 32. (B-A) 
33. (B-A) 34. (B-A) 

35. .(B-A). The resonators of the vibra- 
phone, or "vibes," sustain the tones and 
produce a vibrato. 

36. (B-A) 37. (B-A) 

38. (B-A). Flotsam generally includes 
any object that floats on the ocean. Jetsam 
is the heavy stuff that is jettisoned from a 
vessel in peril and sinks. 

39. (B-A). An easy mnemonic is that port 
has the same numbe r of loiters as /eft. 

40. (A-B). Windward is the side facing 
the wind. Try this mnemonic; Under typical 
weather conditions, the windward side of 
a boat or island will be toward the west; 
leeward, east. 

Editors' note: The poem The Camel by Og- 
den Nash, on page 120, is reprinted with 
permission of Curtis Brown, Ltd., © 1933 
by Curtis Publishing Company.DQ 



Each June. Chicago; yiyantc 
McCormick Place exhibiio- 
center is- filled with audio, 
video, and electronics gooes 
for the annual International 
Summer Consumer Electron- 
ics Show. The SCES, as it 
is known in the trade, altracts 
more than 100.000 attend- 
ees, mostly retailers. The 
products that catch their 
eyes at the SCES wit! line their 
shelves in the upcoming 
lail and Christmas shopping 
seasons. Here are some 
o' the highlights of this year's 
SCES, as reviewed by 
regular Star Tech contributor 
Marjor-e Costello. 


One of the smallest 
products introduced at SCES 
may eventually have the 
biggest impact. Sony 

ii 1 <=■ I a prototype of a 
combinaton VCR/TV the size 
of a paperback book, herald- 
ing the arrival of the long- 
awaited video counterpart to 
:.he Walkman. The TV screen 
is a 2.7-inch LCD (liquid 
crystal display) mounted on 
one side of a tiny 8mm VCR. 
The little VCR includes a 
tuner and can record 
n'oc/ans off the air as well 
as play back movies on 8mm 
cassette. A product based 
or" the concept is pio^seo for 
1988, with hints that an oven 
more miniaturized version 
is in the works. 


The enormous success o : 
the audio CD (compact 

Giskj oas now inspired avideo 
"OU'ite'Dart: the CD Video, 
or CD-V: Like the standard CD, 
the new e' sk is live inches 
in diameter but plays 5 
minutes of video in addition 

to 20 minutes of digital audio. 
For example, a Tina Turner" 
CD-V might begin with a 
live-minute video of one of 

Pioneer, Magnavox, and 
Yamaha (shown on-,the 
■'ollowi.ng oage), are combi- 
nation units capable ol p trying 
standard CDs as well as 
five-inch CD-Vs and laser- 
vision videodisks. Carrying a 
■ :i i v ■ '. n <i .'■!!■ ■■ ii . ,l, 
$800, these combination 
n'ayers started arriving this 
sjrnmo-. The first live-inch 
CD-Vs, which are gold to " 
'list rgivsh them from silver 
CDs, are expected from 
Polygram this fall. Mainly 
music videos tnese disks 
should retell for under $8. 


But the big news in video 
is that the peoole who bronchi 
Us VHS-iormat VCRs (more 
than 100- million sold world- 
wide) have decided thai VHS 
is ready for a major technical 
joorede, namely, Super- VHS. 
JVC, inventor of VHS, 
formally introduced the new 
Super format at the show. 
Super- VHS VCRs can record 
430 lines of horizontal resolu- 
tion, as compared with 
conventional VHS's 240 lines, 
making lorclea'er. sharper 
pictures, A Super-VHS VCR, 
however, must be connected 
to a properly equipped 
hign -esoluiion TV set and 
ises a special v dcocassette. 

Joining JVC in the launch 
ol Super VHS are Panasonic, 
Quasar Magnavox. RCA, 
T-jsmoa, Sharp. VKlsubishi, 
Zenith, and others. The 

I rsi Super-VHS VCRs will be 
expensive, with list prices 
between $1,200 and $2,000. 
(Super-VHS machines can 
pay back conventional VHS 
cassettes as well as record 
in regular VHS mode, but 
Super-VHS recordings will 
net pay back on a conven- 
tional VHS VCR.) 

Sony countered with proto- 
types for its new ED, or 
Extended Definition Beta 
system. ED Beta surpasses 
Super VHS by offering 500 
lines el horizontal resolution. 
Sony's new system, however, 
will not be available until 
1988 in the United States, 
where the Beta format has 
been almosl totally 
overwhelmed by VHS. 


If a Martian had beamed 
down to the lioor of this 
year's SCES, he might have 
deduced that Earthlings 
are ashamed of telephones, 
which is why they disguise 
them as pels or sporting 
goods Siilf, there were at least 
three notable new phone 
models at the show. 

Panasonic's KX-T3000 is a 
cordless model that features 
what may be the world's 
smallest handset with dialing 
function. Reminiscent of 
the pocket communicators 
used by Captain Kirk, Mr. 
Spock and crew in TV's Star 
Trek, the Panasonic model 
folds up to about the size of a 
pack of cigarettes and flips 
open when called into action. 
The suggested retail price 
is $189.95. 

If holding the phone is too 
much of a burden, and you 
want more mobility than 
s peaks r phones can afford, a .■ 
new cordless rnoee Irom 


I Plantronicsmay 
| have your 

\ number. The 
| LiteSet (shown 
below) losiu'es 
niaturized handset 
encased in a threennch-long 
capsule that actually perches 
on your ear. A small dialing 
pad attached to the handse! 
lets you receive and place 
phone calls while moving 
around up to 1,000 feet irom 
the base unit. It will be avail- 
able this fall tor $219.95. 
And for the executive 
who wants to prcserl acudd'y 
persona, there's K.C. Beari- 
fone II. a plush teddy beai 
and phone all in one (pr 
graph at far right), It tea 
lures a push-buttor 

dialing pad and two-way 
speakefphone. And K.C.'s 
eyes and mouth move in 
sync to your caller's voice. 
K.C. is available for £180 


c-isrs-ei.: :hc- cons-.jmer mar- 
ket's firsL affordable ($1,200) 
home automation system that 
can transform your home 
into a "smart" house. 

?m -works wi;h a house's 
;ng wiring and controls 
;e above through an 

telephone line, 
ything can be operated 
a master controller 
;ole or by Touch-Tone 
ie in another room or 
ler country. For example, 
igh a phone call, lights 
i alarm can be turned on 
f And a preprogrammed 
3 will inform the caller if 
forgotten to lurn off 
;o!lcepo: or the air 

Fortheullimate in high- 
tech control, there's CORE 
(controller of remote 
e^c: ionics; phc:o on opposes 
page). This hand-held 
Snared device, the brainchild 
of Apple Computer cofourid- 
er Steven Wozn : .ak and his 
new company CL9, can turn 
on your TV, VCR, and stereo 
and dim the lights with the 
press of one button. It's 
an option lor the Medama 
svsx-it. bui is 5'so available- 
separately for $199. 


SCES also featured the 
usual novelty items, such as 
the It's Alive trophy fish, 
a rubbery largemouth bass 
that squirms and flaps lor 
seven seconds when a 
microphone inside detects a 
voice or handclap. Mounted 
on a plaque, its $39.95 
from S.AM Electronics at 
;3i2; 679-1566 

Nuke Alert (photo above 
left) is a personal radiation 
detector that fits in a pocket 
for those living downwind 
of nuclear power plants, it 
alerts you to the presence of 
beta, gamma, orX rays. 
Suggesled list price is $" " 


The long-awaited bar- 
code-reading VCR, reported 
in Star Tech in October 1986 
and February 1987, was 

finally introduced to the U.S. 
market by companies such as 
Panasonic, Magnavox, and 
Canon. Using a pencil- 
like scanner,. consum- \ 
erscan program their 
VCRs by moving the 
scanner over a bar- 
code function sheet with 
codes for channel, date, and 
start-and-stop information. 
The ultimate goal is to 
persuade newspapers and 
magazines to print compatible 
bar codes in their TV listings 
so viewers need only scan 
the bar codes next to their 
favorite shows to program 
their VCRs. 

And the controversial DAT 
(digilal audiotape recorder) 
is coming. Marantzhas 
commilted itself to soiling the 
DAT in America, probably 
by the end of the year. The 
recording industry is less 
Iban thrilled with the DAT, as 
it allows consumers to make 
compact- disk-quality record- 

ings off "the air and from 
CDs. Record companies have 
pressed Congress to 
mandate anlicopy mecha- 
nisms in such devices to 
hinder their recording 
cat.jabi'ly (see Star Tech, 
June 1987). Marantz's 
decision, announced at 
SCES. came in the wake of 
wanrg support for anticopy 
legislation in Congress. 
Several other brands are 
expected to follow. 


If you're more interested in 
making music lhan listening 
to someone else's, then 
the DG-10 and DG-ap 
electronic, or digital, 'guitars 
featured at the Casio booth 
would have stopped you 
dead in your tracks. 

Fingering the frets or 
plucking ihe strings of these 
advanced instruments 
triggers sounds irom a digital 
tone generator. In addilion, 
Ihe DG-10 offers 12 presel ■ 
: nsi,-umenlal modes, .including 
acoustic guitar, ja2z organ, 
and' mandolin. TheDG- 
20 adds another eight modes, 
among them harp, flute. 

and clarinel, plus four drum 
pads. Both models are 
programmed lor 12 rhythms, 

and both contain a built-in 

Engineer 'ng Awards]. From 
a/nor g 200 p-odjers feau'ed 
at the CES Design and 
Engineering Exhibition, voters 
we/e asked to se.ect the 
most innovative in four 

And the winners are: in the 
audio category, the Hitachi 
MX-W51 compact stereo 
ipho:o below); in video, the 
Fisher-Price PXL 2000 
camcorder system lor kids 
(photo at left); in the personal- 
electronics category, the 
Hewlett-Packard HP-28C 
calculator; and in the home 
bus'nesj equiornon' category, 
the VUsLbsi ii F.ectric Sales/ 
Medama, Inc. MCC 301 
Home Automation System 
(described earlier).DO 

speaker, heyll be available 
this fall: $349 for the DG- 
10; $449 for Ihe DG-20 . 


For the second conseculive 
year, summer CES attendees 
were asked to cast their 
votes for the Omni I. D.E.A. s 
(Innovative Design and 


wombs — providing that endocrine bal- 
ances could be reestablished after the 
disruptions that often accompany pro- 
found brain damage. The vegetatives could 
even be maied to produce fertilized eggs 
or oftspring. The French, who claim lo be 
horrified at discontinuing treatment ot long- 
term vegetatives, in the same breath ad- 
vocate using them experimentally. 

Society has a ways to go before we set 
up human vegetable farms, in part be- 
cause many people, superstitiously or not, 
think that the long-term unconscious might 
someday "wake up." Could it happen? It 
seemed important to discuss this issue with 
people whose optimism for the uncon- 
' scions is the guiding principle of Iheir work. 
The Greenery is such a citadel of hope. 

Located near Boston, the 201-bed insti- 
tution is one of a number of long-term head- 
injury rehabilitation centers. Indeed, the 
Greeneries are flourishing, with branches 
in North Carolina, California, Texas, and 
Washington State. Coma's Jefferson Insti- 
tute was on my mind as I arrived at the 
Greenery's series of garden-apartment 
buildings. There were no huge, window- 
less facades a la Coma. There is no forbid- 
ding nurse at the door; anyone can walk 
right in. 

The Greenery gets plenty ot business. 
The National Head Injury Foundation esti- 
mates that 50,000 people a year who sur- 
vive serious head injury are left with "intel- 
lectual impairment of such a degree as to 
preclude their return to a normal life." 
Thanks to modern medicine, the patients 
have survived overwhelming brain inju- 
ries, but they arrive at the Greenery in 
varying degrees of unconscious or semi- 
aware states. Unlike conventional nursing 
homes,' the Greenery does more than feed 
and nurse these people. It attempts to bring 
back some awareness through a program 
of intense- sensory bombardment, physi- 
cal therapy, and, for those able to benefit, 
special education. 

Upon seeing the Greenery's patients and 
hearing their case histories— many car- 
accident victims — I vowed always to fas- 
ten my seat belt. The patients themselves 
are inescapably sad. They are the bereft, 
wandering shades of a modern Avernus, 
some perceiving dimly, some in childlike 
wonder; others seeing, hearing nothing. 
Their state was much harder to take than 
the finality of R.H.'s brain death. 

Rigid in different poses, some resemble 
fleshy statues partially liberated from their 
molds, a mad choreography of frozen flexor 
contractures, seizures, feet en pointe. To 
ease their muscle contractures, many pa- 
tients are armored in leg, arm, and hand 
casts. Even the unconscious are tied by 
their foreheads in wheelchairs or strapped 
to boards slanted up against the walls to 
expose them to more stimuli. 
The staff is committed to searching for 

114 OMNI 

signs of life in even the most deserted- 
looking bodies. "We have a mission to try 
to wake, these people up, and this is one of 
the few places that is dedicated to serving 
this very severely underaroused popula- 
tion," explains staff neuropsychologist 
Laurence Levine. 

I look the lime to watch their mission in 
action. Young, vigorous physical therapist 
Karen Giebler introduces Randy, who-sits 
speechless in a wheelchair. She presses 
electrodes against his skin, using electri- 
cal stimulation to prime the atrophied mus- 
cles of his legs. A construction worker from 
Oklahoma, he had been hit in the head by 
a demolition ball that demolished a good 
part of his left cerebral hemisphere. His wife 
refused to believe he was hopeless and 
eventually found the Greenery. Randy was 
admitted with muscle contractures that had 
pulled his legs up to his chest and pointed 
his toes down like a ballet dancer's. Gie- 
bler transfers Randy to an exercise mat, 
and she slowly lifts and lowers his now un- 


pronounce them dead and 

they're breathing 

" on their own, what do you 

do? Take them out 

and shoot them? You can't 

discontinue their 

life-support systems sub rosa3 

contracted legs 25 times each. 1 watch 
Giebler worka little longer and after a while 
say good-bye to her and to her patient. But 
there is no response from him as I leave. 
He stares straight ahead. 

The staff members admit it's difficult to 
keep the fires' of enthusiasm burning when 
there's no response day after day, month 
after month. Though they all have their 
Lazarus stories of the hopeless who even- 
tually walk out oi the place on their own, no 
one has published any data about these 
amazing returns in the medical journals; 
and this, to the neurological community, is 
a serious weakness in their presentation. 

Yet if there were a new, cognitive defini- 
tion oi death, several of the Greenery's pa- 
tients could be conceived as candidates. 
I ask Levine; Should death be redefined as 
cognitive loss? "Working in a place like this 
raises guestions like that all the time," he 
says, "profound questions about what a 
' person is. There are patients here who are 
very dependent, severely underaroused, 
. with little hope on the horizon. 

"I've thought about what would happen 
to me if I wound up like one of them. At this 
point I'd want to die," he admits. "Bui my 

hunch is that I'd change my mind if it ac- 
tually happened. More likely, I'd not have 
the cognition to know. What I'm trying to 
say is I don't have any lixed answers. Some 
people may believe that these people 
should be put to death, but as a society 
we can't condone that." 

When I bring up the-idea of cognitive 
death to him, Korein argues, "To consider 
a vegetative state as death is not practical. 
If you pronounce them dead and they're 
breathing on iheir own, what do you do? 
Take them out and shoot them? Smother 
them? You can't discontinue their life-sup- 
port systems sub rosa." Unlike the brain- 
■ death situation, withdrawing support from 
the vegetative is a social decision, not a 
medical one. The physician can't play God 
and decide to withdraw support. 

Pressed about his personal feelings 
about higher cognitive death, Korein says 
that once an individual is no longer capa- 
ble of awareness, is no longer a thinking 
being, and is in that irreversible state, "yes, 
I consider it the death of a human being." 
But he reminds me that there have been 
two recorded cases in which persons de- 
clared irreversibly vegetative did "come 
back," although that return of function 
"doesn't mean they dance," he adds. "They 
could hardly communicate and do not 
walk." Furthermore, the criteria for deter- 
mining a vegetative state are much less 
established than for brain death. 

For background on what those criteria 
might be, I decided to ask another knowl- 
edgeable neurologist. "I believe that the 
meaning of life is cognition and self-aware- 
ness, not merely visceral survival." states 
Fred Plum, neurologist in chief at Cornell 
University Medical College-New York 
Hospital, at a meeting at Cornell in Ithaca. 
"The concept holds that when the cogni- 
tive brain has departed, the person has 
departed. In my opinion it is acceptable, 
perhaps even desirable, that society come 
to share this view, but," he is careful to add. 
"that is a personal, not a medical, opinion." 
I sought out Plum because he is the best 
there is. Perhaps the world's top expert on 
coma. Plum is a hybrid of the kindly white- 
haired physician and Apollonian intel- 
lect—elegant, contemplative, and analyti- 
cal. His book The Diagnosis ot Stupor and 
Coma] written with Jerome Posner. is the 
delinitive text on the subject. Today, with 
colleague David Levy, Plum has been em- 
ploying PET (positron emission tomogra- 
phy) technology to peer into Ihe interior of 
this gloomy condition. 

He has been doing preliminary PET 
studies on the cerebral metabolism of veg- 
etative patienls, and he and his colleagues 
are now trying to evaluate the potential for 
recovery of the severely brain damaged 
who are not vegetative. Using statistical 
evidence, he's built up "rather sturdy pre- 
dictors" of who will do well and who will fare 
badly following severe brain trauma. He 
uses a sophisticated computer program 
that analyzes detailed information on ihe 
progress of the severely brain injured- 

Within less than two weeks after onset. 
Plum says, about three quarters of the 
damaged area show clear clinical signs 
that predict whether they will have a gen- 
erally good or devasiatingly poor out- 
come. These data are correlated over a 
period of time, he says, "with the aim of 
eventually producing a one hundred per- 
cent prediction of who will do well or, con- 
versely, who has no chance of recovery." 
Does that mean you can say with 100 

pfiii-fvy. s ■•■■■ ::;:■'■;:■" 

after three months that 

Mr. X is in a vegetative state from which he 
will never return? No, says Plum. There will 
always be head injury cases that defy the 
odds and recover, "Nevertheless, being 
able to predict with a strong probability 
gives the family some facts upon which to 
make a decision," he maintains. His pre- 
dictions could help a family decide whether 
to disconnect a life-support system or what 
to do with a brain-damaged patient who 
has a living will. Such a personal state- 
ment, made when the person is in full com- 
mand of his self-determination, serves to 
advise physicians against ordering mil- 
lions of dollars' worth of needless care for 
hopeless cases. 

Like Korein, Plum thinks that ultimately it 
is not the doctor's job to make the decision 
for the patient. "My facts are an effort to 
give people enough information so that a 
reasonably informed layperson can partic- 
ipate in the decision, knowing what the op- 
tions are." 

But over the next 20 years, the over- 
whelming demand for organs may in- 
crease the pressure to simply declare the 
"brain absent" dead. There is already 
something of a black market for buying and 
selling organs. If the cognitive-death defi- 
nition were instituted, organ-merchandis- 
ing corporations might establish enter- 
prises beyond Wall Street's wildest insider 
■fantasies. The world would find itself in a 
situation where death itself would be an in- 
dustry — an economic incentive. 

But as Youngner points out, this eco- 
nomic pressure is not necessarily bad. 
"When Columbus sailed across the Atlan- 
tic," he says, "the main purpose wasn't to 
prove the world was round. It was to find 
new territory to plunder, it wasn't the phi- 
losophers who stimulated the cognitive 
death criteria of death, it was those who 
wanted the organs." We should be careful, 
he says, that the need for organs doesn't 
take over completely, because it confuses 
the issue, so that we are unable to debate 
the topic of death in a logical, intelligent 
way. If fhe brilliant liver-transplant surgeon 
Thomas Starzl, for example, has said we 
should take organs from the vegetative, 
why should we do it? Because their lives 
are of such poor quality that it doesn't mat- 
ter, or because they're dead? 

Even without a shift to a cognitive death 
criterion, we.already face major social and 
legal questions: "In the case of persons^- 
bodies, really— that have lost all individu- 
ality or capacity for self-awareness, have 
they also lost their constitutional privi- 

116 OMNI 

leges?" asks Plum. "This question is an ar- 
tifact of technology. If it weren't for modern 
technology, we wouldn't be faced with the 
prospect of more and more very old per- 
sons continuing to survive in nursing homes 
after all shadow of their personalities has 
left the face ol the earth." The numbers of 
these people will continue to climb, and 
society will have to try to reach some kind 
of balanced judgment about what to do with 
those with no living wills. 

We also have the emotional stress of 
treating the legally dead. This fact was 
brought to doctors' attention by Young- 
ner's powerful essay in The New England 
Journal ol Medicine, "Psychosocial and 
Ethical Implications of Organ Retrieval." In 
his article Youngner notes that maintaining 

maining surgeons do a perfunctory job of 
sewing up the body cavity using coarse 
thread and large needles. And the body is 
sent not to the recovery room but to the 
morgue. (Even after being told what has 
happened to a patient, families sometimes 
ask the doctors what time the donor "will 
be brought back to his rcom.") 

Youngner has now embarked on a long- 
term study of health-profession stress and 
organ retrieval. In his office, looking ath- 
letic in chinos and a blue jacket, Youngner 
has a sensitive face and speaks gently but 
firmly. "I got an incredibly positive re- 
sponse from O.R. personnel from that 
Journal piece," he says. "I don't want to 
exaggerate and say they're all terribly trau- 
matized by brain death and the organ-re- 

bodies for "harvesting" often requires trieval process, but most everybody finds 

treating dead people as if they were alive, 
an upsetting experience for doctors and 
nurses. They must try to ignore the signs 
of vitality that bombard their senses and at 

the same time provide the dead donors with 

<m If you come 

into the hospital seriously 

injured and 

your survival's in grave 

doubt, they'll 

probably give you the very 

best attention. 

For your organs' sake 3 

intensive care usually reserved for the liv- 
ing. If a brain-dead donor in an intensive 
care unit goes info cardiac arrest, for ex- 
ample, alarms ring and medical staff rush 
to revive the body. Meanwhile a do not re- 
suscitate order might be written on the 
chart of the living, perhaps even wide- 
awake, patient in the next bed, 

Surgery to remove organs also requires 
hospital staff to suspend their medical in- 
stincts. The dead don't usually go to sur- 
gery: and as- Youngner points out, the brain 
dead wheeled into the O.R. don't look that 
different from living , anesthetized patients. 
O.R. personnel used to life-saving surgery, 
upon seeing the removal of vital parts, may 
be shocked by the mutilation. In some 
cases of what's called long-bone retrieval, 
one O.R. nurse told me, the surgical team 
removes the thighbones and replaces them 
with broomsticks to keep fhe legs' shape. 
. Another organ-donor coordinator who has 
logged hundreds of hours inO.R.'s con- 
fessed she still can't watch eye removals. 

After long hours of "retrieval" surgery the 
anesthesiologist does not, of course, wake 
up the cadaver. He simply disconnects the 
respirator and leaves the room. The re- 

it a little uncomfortable; a few find it con- 
siderably uncomfortable." 

Many M.D.'s don't really come to terms 
emotionally with brain death, even though 
they intellectually understand the mecha- 
nisms. Attending physicians often balk at 
writing the death certificate for a person 
pronounced brain dead. 

Faye Davis, director of the New York Re- 
gional Transplant Program, uses Young- 
ner's essay in some training sessions to 
sensitize hospital staff. "Sometimes ICU 
staff complain about taking care of dead 
people," she says, "when they have so 
many live people to take care of. So we 
might hold off on a pronouncement [of 
death] to help them feel they're still taking 
care of a patient. It's less stressful. But it's 
hocus-pocus, and in a sense they know." 
Youngner also talks about the "spirit" the 
staff often say they feel in the operating 
room during surgery, the presence of a fife- 
force there but sleeping. O.R. personnel 
"often feel a similar presence with brain- 
.dead patients, and it doesn't depart until 
the respirator is turned oft" Families talk 
about the spiritual entities as well. Some- 
times, says Davis, "they know when their 
loved one is dead while we're still figuring 
it out by the tests. They know he's just not 
there anymore." 

Outside the medical profession, the re- 
action to brain death is blind fear. "Many 
people are afraid the doctors are going to 
grab their kidneys before they're dead," 
says Montefiore's Tellis. But we shouldn't 
worry. "In fact, donor cards are your best 
insurance. If you come into the hospital se- 
riously injured, and your survival's in grave 
doubt, they'll probably give you the very 
best attention. For your organs' sake" 

In the midst of these discussions, my 
mind kept returning to the question, What 
is a person? And more important, what will 
a person be in the future? It's not incon- 
ceivable that before too long, brain stem 
function could be replaced by a computer, 
for example, a silicon clone of the reticular 
formation. This autonomic organ could be 
compacted to the size of a real brain stem 
and inserted into the head. Then irretriev- 
able consciousness might be made re- 
trievable; the lost person, brought back. 

In the course a* nis ■nlerv.ew, Korein be- 
gan to speculate about Ihe value of such 
a machine-brain cyborg. "II I knew how tp 
make one, I know what I'd use it for: for 
someone with an immediate-memory def- 
icit, a patient who will forget he has met a 
visitor after ha! persor sleps out for a mo- 
ment and returns. If you could create an 
external visual memory system for him, then 
when someone walks into a room — zip — 
it is recorded into the machine's external 
memory. Then if the person walks out and 
returns, the memory would compare the 
person who left with the person returning 
and report to the brain of the memory-def- 
icit paiient, 'You already saw this guy. 1 " 

This, then, brings up another basic 
question: Where is the mind? "The brain is 
something you can touch, squeeze, and 
do experiments on. The mind has other 
properties, but it's certainty related lo the 
brain. I don't know any mind without a brain; 
i know lots of brains without minds. I'm sure 
you've met them! " Korein laughs, "Actually, 
the mind must evolve in some way from 
self-reflective processes. Living beings all 
have this ability to look upon themselves. 
In one-celled animals it's an enzymatic 
system, a positive feedback. In humans it's 
the ability to put together a set of stimuli. 
store them, look upon them, feed on them. 
And the repetition of this is, I think, what 
results in a mind." 

I asked You'ngner to contemplate the im- 
plications of the computerized mind. What ' 
if one could decipher the program of a per- 
son's personality and transfer it to a com- 
pulerthat would store the memories, react 
with the same "emotions"? Could one ar- 
gue that even if Ihe human had forever lost 
consciousness, he'd still be alive because 
this computer was standing in? 

"I'd say that wouldn't be a person but a 
robot," he decides, considering the op- 
lions. "Okay, what if you took the brain out 
-ol a body and put it in a solution with a 
communications system? I'd still say it 
wouldn't be a person because to me a per- 
son is, at bottom, a biological entity. Our 
identity is very much tied up with our body, 
and we have an idea of who we are based 
on our phys.cal allributes oulside the brain. 
"On the other hand"— he takes the op- 
posite view without much painful disso- 
nance— "if you had this brain in a jar— say 
it was my brain— and it said, 'I'm a Pitts- 
burgh Steelers fan, and I'm upset they 
didn't have a good year,' then it would be 
hard to dismiss the idea that Stuart Ycung- 
ner is alive, although his body's gone. It 
might be Ihe presence of an identity, but 
it's not a human being. It gets pretty tricky." 
So the question of death ultimately be- 
comes the question of what is life. After al- 
most 20 years of research on death, Korein 
is more excited these days about life. The 
process of being born is, in a sense,' just 
the opposite of dying. When does the hu- 
man being begin? Al fertilization? When it's 
an embryo? There's a constructive phase 
between 10 and 20 weeks of fetal life when 
the neurons are being produced and or- 

ganized The 'etus moves as early as eight 
weeks, Korein says, but that's spinal cord 
activity, a vegetative function. Around 20 
to 24 weeks" the cerebrum siarts to show 
signs of electrical and synaptic activity, 
"Then," he says, "you.could say it's the ear- 
liest possibility of cerebral-mental life. It 
hasn't the ability to work like a normal three- 
day-old baby, but the pieces are in place, 
starting to'grow and connect. That's the 
beginning of a person's life— 'brain life.' " 

In tracking Ihe dead and the near dead, 

I was haunted, so to speak, by the words 
of Carlelon Gajdusek. The Nobel prize- 
winning virologist is famous for his discov- 
ery ol the slow virus in the Fore people of 
New Guinea. During his research he in- 
tensely observed their mortuary ritual of 
eating the brains of dead family members. 

II was an expression of love lor their dead 
relatives. "They had no fear or reluctance 
to look at the brains or intestines of their 
kin," Gajdusek told Omni. "They always 
dissected their relatives with love and 
tender care and interest." It was Gajdu- 
sek's opinion that were it not for the viral 
infection in the tissue, eating brains would 
have "provided a good source of protein 
for a meat-starved community." Not long 
after I started this story, I went to hear Gaj- 
dusek speak at Mount Sinai Hospital in New 
York. During the address he spoke of the 
"neocannibalism" of modern medicine. 

With the great advances in life-support 
technology and organ transplantation, the 
dead today do indeed have much "pro- 
tein" to oifer us— in the form of their organs 
and body parts. We are the neocannibals. 
Unlike Fore culture, however. Western so- 
ciety has a horror of the dead. We prefer 
not to think about death at all; and when 
forced to deal with it, we do so as hurriedly 
as possible. We have no new-death rituals 
and little understanding of neocannibal 
practices. And our old superstitions may 
work counter to a true understanding not 
only of death but perhaps ol life, too. 

The radical, outspoken Dr. Tellis is con- 
cerned with life, the hanging-by-a-thread 
life of someone waiting for a heart or liver 
or kidney. He has no patience with families 
who refuse to donate the organs of brain- 
dead kin. The social climate surrounding 
donation today should be reversed, he told 
me as he waited at Good Samaritan Hos- 
pital that night for the rest of the transplant 
surgeons to arrive for R.H.'s organs. "In- 
stead of feeling good and righteous about 
donating," he said, "it should enter the col- 
lective unconscious that you feel bad if you 
reluse. The family who refuses to donate a 
dead relative's liver should be told they 
killed the waiting recipient!" 

Slowly we are coming to terms with brain 
death and Ihe new life that il offers. What 
we decide to do with the life in limbo that ' 
is'the vegetative state remains to be seen. 
But it is better to begin to think about it than 
to ignore the increasing price we have to 
pay for this most unblessed death on Ihe 
installment plan.OO 



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G(JN " iNl 'EC ■-': ■■I,! '; 

with the present. To do this, comfortably, 
select a beautiful scene having personal 
meaning lor you." I want the reality ol the 
experience 'c ne as vivic as possible. Then 
I count to ten and bring them back. 

At that point, if I'm working with a pitcher, 
say, I ask him to think about the batting 
lineup. "You're in Houston," I say. "Feel 
yourself in the Astrodome; feel the temper- 
ature; feel the direction of the breeze." I'm 
reinforcing the sensual world he's going to 
experience. Then I ask him to mentally 
. stand on the pitcher's mound and envision 
himself releasing each pitch to his fullest 
potential to each batter in the lineup. It takes 
three or four minutes to go through all nine 
batters. Then I say, "Did you like your per- 
formance? Was it close to your personal 
best?" The athlete says no; so I fell him lo 
return to the point at which his perform- 
ance fell off and again go through the sce- 
nario in his head. Finally I bring him out of 
the tranquil state; and he tells me, with far 
more clarity than he's ever had before, what 
he's been doing wrong with hitter number 
four. You cannot tell such highly developed 
athletes how to improve their performance. 
You can only help them perfect their per- 
formance by moving in the continuum ot 
feelings and associations that have gotten 
them there in the first place. Whatever the 
pitcher's basic script is, we go back to it, 
constantly reinforcing what's worked best 
for him in the past. 

Omn<: Your melnod seems so serene. How 
does this jibe with the notion that aggres- 
sion is invaluable for success in sports? 
Ogilvie: I have no enthusiasm lor generat- 
ing aggression or anger in sports. These 
emotions dissipate so quickly. The better 
stance is one of mastery and control. 
Omni: Would that hold true even for, say, 
prizefighters? Marvin Hagler. defeated by 
Sugar Ray. Leonard for the middleweight 
championship, always convinces himself 
before a fighl that he hates his opponent. 
Ogilvie; It's a very, very unfaithful emotion. 
It betrays you. Once you release it in that 
first burst, it's as if you've vomited. There's 
nothing left. I mysell fought in the service, 
and the only time I ever lost it in the ring 
was when someone literally tried to kill me. 
Then I became so irrational I tried to kill 
him. As a natural human being, you can 
reach a level ot self-sustaining rage due to 
whaf an opponent actually does to you. But 
if you're trying to generate that rage your- 
self, it's hard to sustain. One defensive end 
told me he used to pretend'that the offen- 
sive tackles he matched up against on 
Sundays had raped his wile. He felt he had 
to generate that hate to start every game. 
He was one of the meanest men around. 
But as soon as he made one hit, the artifi- 
cial energy seemed to fade. 
Omni: Do male and temale athletes dilfer 
Ogilvie; Our profiles show (hat elite female 

and male athletes are virtually identical. 
They're tough-minded and emotionally 
healthy. Because their emotions are more 
open, however, females often find it easier 
to use such performance-enhancement 
techniques as visualization to improve. 
Omni: You've studied such high-risk per- 
formers as Grand Prix race drivers, para- 
chutists, and aerobatie pilots. Are these 
athletes driven by a death wish? 
Ogilvie; Well, Grand Prix drivers turn out to 
be some of the healthiest people around. 
We studied about thirty drivers, including 
Graham Hill, one of the finest who ever 
lived. In their psychometric profiles they 
scored even higher than NFL iootball play- 
ers. Very natural y aggressive men, they 
set the standard in our studies for self-con- 
trol and tough-mindedness. They don't 
mess around with emotional interpreta- 
tions of things. They want to get down to 
bedrock: Give me the facts, show me the 
data. They most fear boredom. The thing 
most stressful to them is a life not lived, 

'•More and 
more athletes are coming 

to grips with, 
and using, the emotional 

legacy that's 
- so deeply bound up with 

how they will perform.^ 

where aptitudes and abilities are not ex- 
p-essed or acted upon. . 
Omni: Do they want lo stay alive? 
Ogilvie: Oh, yeah. I was sitting with Gra- 
ham Hill reviewing the findings of his psy- 
chometric test. After pointing out all Ihe re- 
markable strengths I'd found, I said, 
"Because risks are everywhere and friends 
ol yours have died, what goes through your 
mind when you're waring io start?' 1 He said, 
"I focus on the first turn, where there's the 
highest probability for injury and death." 
Then he took '"me for a walk around the 
track. "Walk around the edge," he told me. 
"This is where I'll be. Now I'm turning into 
the straightaway. That turn has an incline, 
fhen drops off two and a half degrees. Now 
it's sloping again. The three feet of gravel 
on the inside of the asphalt track is death. 
If I get out with no engine disturbance, I'm 
going io hit that turn fast. Supposing, on 
the other hand, there's a mechanical dis- 
turbance and I don't accelerate fast enough 
and someone on the outside gets to the 
curve first? I'll have to move to the right. , . ." 
He went on and on. It was a dissertation 
on all the contingencies, He took every 
conceivable possibility into account. He 

knew every rock and piece of gravel. These 
are not careless, fly-by-night characters— 
not the men the Air Force looked for when 
it wanted pilots to fly with abandon, not 
reckless kids who'd hot-rodded and gone 
up mountains on motorcycles. This popu- 
lation would have been .well suited to fly 
bombers with all oi the technical gear. 
They're better suited for that. Fear is a real- 
ity to these people, although they have the 
true ability to inhibit its intrusion upon their 

Omni: What happens to retired Grand Prix 
race-car drivers and other stress addicts 
who no longer get the stress they need? 
Ogilvie: They may suffer adjustment prob- 
lems. When their lives become routine, they 
may become anxious. A good example 
from another profession is the surgeon. He 
also thrives on stress but now just does six 
routine arthroscopic knee surgeries a day. 
Now he's a plumber. My advice to him is to 
find some new area of challenge so he can 
sense risk again. So many of them would 
love to change places with the race-car 
drivers. Instead, they drive exquisite Italian 
cars across the de-sen al one hundred sixty 
miles an hoar— just for the thrill of emo- 
tional release. 

Omni: How would you extend this notion to 
athletes who may lose their sense of emo- 
tional release when fhey leave their sport? 
Ogilvie: In general, there's no provision for 
these people afler they leave their sport. 
Many athletes go through four years of col- 
lege reading, at ninth-grade level. Some 
don't even receive their degrees. Coaches 
wrongly emphas.ze only I tic sport. The ca- 
reers of pro basketball and football players 
average three and a half to four years. For 
maybe forty percent of the players, it's over 
after one year. Anxiety over the situation 
hinders performance even during the ath- 
letic career. When the career ends, these 
players feel like it's the end of a dream. 
■ After having it all— the acclaim and ado- 
ration—suddenly they step into crowds and 
become ordinary persons. It can be dev- 
astating. The incidence of alcoholism in 
former hockey pros is epidemic. They go 
through grief and engage in all kinds of 
dangerous escape behavior. 
Omni: You describe ihe phases of an ath- 
lete's termination almost as it it were some 
kind of fatal illness. 

Ogilvie: For some of them it's more terrify- 
ing than that. Death would be easier than 
becoming a nonentity. You should hearthe 
wives describe the syndromes oi the NFL 
players who played ten or twelve years. All 
that time he's been programmed to get 
ready for the Sunday game. By Friday he"s 
restless, he can't settle down. Saturday 
morning he paces, and the crescendo 
builds. At eleven o'clock that night he wants 
to get to bed but tosses and turns. Sunday 
comes, and the game begins, but he's not 
there. He still needs the body contact and 
the stimulation of the sixty-five thousand 
roaring people. So he gets up at seven and 
runs until he's exhausted. Only when he 
returns home does he become moder- 

ately human. This is (he characteristic 
withdrawal. These men know no other 
world. Where can they turn to gel (he 
charge, the challenge, the acclaim they're 
used to? Nowhere. 
Omni: What do you suggest? 
Ogilvie: Wo .must prepare these people in 
advance for a challenging life after sporls. 
It's a problem for the coaching wlaf-'s the 
teams, and Ihe schools. 
Omni: Have you any other gripes againsl 
the sports structure in America? 
Ogilvie: Yes. I'm disappointed with the 
Olympic hierarchy. You have lo work 
through a maze of authority figures, each 
with their own turf. Because there's insuf- 
ficient respect for the basic service person 
in sports psychology, the result is that Ihe 
athletes don't gel Ihe service when the 
need is greatest. At the Mexico City Olym- 
pics, a Czechoslbvakian study deter- 
mined thai forly percent of their athletes 
needed some lorm of psychological inter- 
vention. My colleagues in East Germany 
estimated Ihe figure at thirty-four percent. 
Omni: Did they have psychologists there? 
Ogilvie: Yes. as did the Soviets and all the 
Eastern Bloc nations. In fact, the last time 
I was in Europe, their sports scientists 
wined and dined me while seeking lo dis- 
cover whether we had developed better 
performance-enhancing strategies. But I 
had to get them drinking before they'd talk 
about their own work; and I didn't sense 
anything more advanced than what we're- 
doing here, except for their superior orga- 
nization and structure, which brings psy- 
chologists into their entire Olympic devel- 
opment movement. The U.S. Olympic 
committee is now issuing credentials to 
psychologists. How soon they will be inte- 
grated into the total Olympic development 
movement remains to be seen. 

During the 1984 Olympics I was called 
back by Ari Selinger, coach of the women's 
volleyball learn. The group had lo smuggle 
me into Ihe locker room in women's sweats 
I even wore a lowel around my head. I spent 
an hour and a hall working with the players 
one-on-one and then worked wilh the en- 
tire team, mentally rehearsing the entire 
match. And Ihen. each lime, the officials 

bitches they car! keep this old bastard out, 
I thought. Their stupid restriction worked lo 
the disadvantage of the team. 
Omni: Where have you made your great- 
est impacl in the world of sports? 
Ogilvie: I've shown the sports establish- 
ment, including coaches and manage- 
ment, lhal the athlete must be understood 
as a total individual. Everywhere I go, I talk 
aboul the athlete's needs and uniqueness 
and I fighl ihe negative stereotypes he's 
bound to run into in his career. I've- helped 
the athletes Ihc^seivos e'eve'op a respect 
and sensitivity for what's in their own minds. 
More arid more they are coming tcgrips 
wilh, and using, the emotional legacy so 
deeply bound up with determining how 
they will perform. DQ 



Here is the solution to last month's telephone crypt. 




— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 


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World's Hardest Which-ls-Which Quiz 


By Scot Morris 

The camel has a single 

The dromedary two. 
Or else the other way 

I'm never sure, are you? 

— Ogden Nash 

As a child you learned that 
in a cave there are staiaaHea* 
arc;! stalagmites and thai 
one of them rises from the 
floor like a stone pillar, while 
the other hang:-: irom :he 
ce. ir.g like a petrified icicle. 
But which is which?.Are 
you sure? 

The world is filled with: fine 
distinctions, dichotomies,' 
pairs that often have similar 
names designed to confuse: 
ventricle and auricle; convex 
and concave; mitosis and 
meiosis; As the moon waxes 
and wanes, the tide ebbs 
and flows, leaving flotsam and 
jetsam all over the beach. 

Well, it's time to get a few 
things straight once and 
for all. Now, once again: 
Which is the stalactite, and 
which the stalagmite 1 ? 


Select the best description 
for the words in each pair 
below. For the first six, refer 
to the illustrations above right 
and oh the next page- 
Note: In some cases the 
same letter may apply to 
both words. 
1. latitude (), longitude () 

2. dromedary ( ), camel ( ) 

3. African elephant ( ) 
Indian elephant ( ) 

4. oboe { ^.bassoon ( ) 

5. head line ( ), heart line ( ) 

6. alligator (), crocodile.f ) 

7. stalactite ( ), stalagmite ( ) 
A. hangs from the ceiling 

120 OMNI 

like a petrified icicle 

B. rises from the floor like a 

stone pillar 

8. dorsal (), ventral () 
A; your front side 

B. your back side 

9. mortar (j. pestle { ) 

A. a pulverizing tool 

B, the bowl used with A 

10. ebb (). flow () 

A. the incoming tide 

B. the' Outgoing tide 

11. nearsighted .( ) 
farsighted ( ) 

A. You car .see fine a; a 
distance but -require 
glasses for close-up 
viewing. - 

B, You are able to see 
ihings at close range but 
require glasses for distant 

12. 13. x-axis (),y-axis(), 

abscissa (), ordinate ( ) 
A. in a graph, the- horizontal 
line, generally represent- 
ing time 

3."ihe vcnical : ine, generally 
depicting quantity or 

14. stamen ( ), pistil ( ) 

A. the male part of a flower 

B. the female part 

15. stocks (), pillory () 

A. Ipcks around head and 

B. confines the ieet, or feet 
and hands 

16. dolphin (), porpoise ( ) 

A. possesses a "beak" or 
bottle nose 

B. round nosed, smaller 
than animal A 

17- apogee (), perigee () 

A. the farthest point of an 
orbit around the earth ' 

B. the nearest point of an 
orbit around the earth 

18. solstice ( ). equinox- ( ) 
A. June 22 and December 

- B. March 21 and Septem- 
ber 23 

fft ^ 

19. jujitsu ( ), judo ( ) 

A. the martial art of 
weaponless fighting 

B. a sport developed from 
A, emphasizing quick 

20, tropic.of Capricorn ( ) 
tropic of Cancer ( ) 

A. 23.5° latitude north (of 
the equator) 

B. 23.5" latitude south (of 
the equator) 


A. hind end is fused into a 
flipper; generally has no ■ 
external ears 

B. rear flipper is divided 
into two fins; as a stage 
performer, balances a ball 
on its nose 

22. cirrus (), cumulus () 

A. piled-up masses of 
clouds at low altitudes, with 
relatively flat bases and 
cauliflowerlike tops 

B. filmy or curly clouds 
usually at high altitudes and 
formed by ice crystals 

23. habeas corpus ( ) 
corpus delicti ( ) 

A. a legal document 
demanding release of a 
person detained without 
sufficient cause 

B. the fundamental fact 
necessary to prove a 
crime has been committed 

24. slander!), libel ( ) 

A. publishing a false and 
defamatory statement 

that conveys an unjustly 

negative impression of 


B. ihe uttering of false 

charges that damage a 

person's reputation 

25. assault ( ], battery { ) 

A. hitting someone 

B. a threat of physical 

26. centripetal force ( ) 
centrifugal force ( ) 

A. the apparent force that 
pushes you to the left 
when your car makes a 
right turn 

B. the. sun's gravitational 
force that keeps the earth 
in its orbit 

27. tibia ( ), fibula ( ) 

A. the large inner bone of 
the lower leg 

B. the smaller, outside "calf 

28. radius-O, ulria{) 

A. forearm bone connected 
to the thumb side of the 

B. forearm bone that 
connects to the pinkie side 
of the hand 

29. oblique { ), obtuse ( ) 

A an ano/e thai :s .greater 

than 90° 

B. less than a right angle 

30. mule ( ); donkey ( ) 

A. a cross between a 
■horse and animal B" 

B. a species closely related 
to the horse 

31. Charles's law () 
Boyle's, .law ( ) 

A. Volume of an enclosed 
gas is directly proportional 
to its temperature. 

B. Volume and pressure 
are inversely proportional to 
each other. 

32. lute { ), lyre() 

A. a stringed mst'uror: n 
the harp class 

B. an instrument with a 
half-pear-shaped body 

33. baking soda.f ) 
baking powder ( ) 

A. used as a substitute for 
yeast in baking 

B. used lo clean your teeth" 
or skin, or to calm an 
upset stomach 

34. Noah Webster ( ) 
Daniel Webster ( ) 

A. the orator 

B. the dictionary man 

35. vibraphone ( ) 
xylophone ( ) 

A. has wooden bars- 

B. resembles instrumentA 
but has metal bars and 
motor-driven resonators 

36. agoraphobia' ( ) 
acrophobia ( ) 

A. fear of heights 

B. fear of being in open 

37. prone ( ), supine ( ) 

A. on your back 

B. on your stomach 

38. flotsam (), jetsam () 

A. a sunken treasure or a 
beer can on the floor of the 

B. a broken deck chair 
floating on the waler 

39. starboard ( ), port() 
A. the left side of a boat 
[3. ins -ghrside of a boat 

40. windward ( ), leeward ( ) 

A. usually the side facing 
the wind 

B. usually facing away 
from the wind 

Answers appear on page "03 


In 1976 Lee Dennis turned 
her collection of more than 
1,000 antique board and 
card games, dating from 1812 
to 1930, into The Game 
Preserve, a museum housed 
in her Peterborough, New 
Hampshire, home. Colorful, 
lithographed game covers 
line the walls of her study, 
hallway, and living room. The 
rare and most delicate 
games are preserved in 
hermetically sealed frames. 
A game carpet, woven with 
game boards, includes 
chess, cribbage, Parcheesi, 
and even hopscotch'. 

One title in Dennis's gallery 
of games is The Mansion of 
Happiness — created by 
a minister's daughter in 1843. 
Each player tries to arrive 
at Ihe mansion while avoiding 
such pitfalls- as Passion 
and Idleness. 

The games we choose to 
p:ay mirror our society and 
values. According to Dennis, 
in strict pre-Civil War house- 
holds The Mansion of Happi- 
ness served as a morality 
lesson as much as a form of 
entertainment. Such games 
as Telegraph Boy and District 
Messenger B.oy display the 
American work ethic. 

In addition to serving as 
tour guide, Dennis sells 
coloehiiles on her enclosed 
porch— quaintly called The 
Pastime Porch. 

The Game Preserve: 110 
Spring Road, Peterborough, 
NH. Telephone: (603) 924- 
6.710. (From America on 

oyce Jurnovoy 
and Davio Jenness. Copyright 
1987: reprinted by permis- 
sion ol Facts on File, Inc., 
New York.)OQ 


By John Carlson ancUoto Trpessrt 

^The Middle . • . 

Testament is one of the . . •- ; . . 
' most exciting- finds ■ ; : • ■ 
, in years, rivaled only by \: , 

the fabled lost 

Haneymaonef s episodes 

dug up in. Jackie , ■ • ".. ': "• 

Gleason's basement.^ 

:■■ ■;■! ;■'■!,!■■;. ■''..■II ... '■ ' i ! " 

os-ogls: Howard ("Ruddy"} Molmk creased 
a ;-cnsah:T'. last month when he announced 
thai he had accidentally d.sccvared an 
ancient scroll during a trip so Israel. 
"Hie docum-en: has boon positive 1 y iti ■ 
Ted as a orevloos'y unknown book oi 
i ... Biirjii Since : i neithenNew norOld. 
tne book is now being referred io as 
ihe Mtco-e tesiarnen; 

The iGStamenl, wmfen on narrow strips 
of parchment approximately six inches 
roe. was ilgrdy wound around a c;yi;ncr=- 
cai oiece o ! wood and is said so resembie 
a roil of novelty soiiet paper it was Mrs. 
Metnik who f^rsl sootfed ;he artifact wh.ie 
flopping tor souven.rs in Jerusalem. 
Unaware nt the importance o! he: Tnd : 
she brought the item home and installed 
it Hi :.ne bathroom. 'T'kjrsuna:e L y'' recalls 
Mr. -MeliT.k, "I suspected she document's 
jmnecance boiore Mrs. MeiniKused 
op any of the introductory chapters. 

f>..Teimk assembled a team ot six experts 
special^ng in ancient linguistics to trans- 
late his find. "'Tie- efforts have already 
brought Io hgoi several stanlng revelations, 
some til which Melnik made known in 
an exc'usive mse- view, "it's divided into 
two sections ihe firs; see-on ciarities 
noiots -a'sec 'nine Old Testament "hi? 
says, "which should put to rest many 
religious Questions that nave gene 
unanswered for eeniuoes. 

■■i>o vol; know ma! ihe Sabbam does 
no'. Tall on Saturday or Sunday, as some 
have obviously Ihooght?' ne asks. "We 
new knew it actually is supposed so occur 
on alternating Thursday afsemoons 
between rhrtoe ano torn tni-ly 

"In addition toe so'-oll reveals Ida: there 
aie not ten commandments bul seven - 
lecn," Meihlk continues included among 
inern are such mandates as 'Thou shait 
not run about w ; !h a pointed stick In 
my mouih." and "Thou shalt not poison- 
Shy neighbor's pam relieve: " As an 
addendum So trie unpopular ninth 
comma ndroent was a ■■ i:nin -and-a-hai; 
commandment: "Tnou shall not covet She 
church secretary." 

Tma'ly, in the appendix to the ^rst 
section was ■ ' ■.■'.■'.!■ r's note apokxoz- 

in. , ;■.. .' '!■ 'i ■ type I-.,.. . ,, 

the Old Testament. The totter p was 
net suoocseel to appear at she beg.nnmg 
oi the word psafrn. "Henceforth the word 
should be spelled as 1 sounds." she 
Middle "Testament cieciares. 

Even more startling revelations wore to 
come oui of the second section it added 
more detail to events already chronicled 
in :l io New rpetament 'We iound previ- 
ouslv unpublished »v:;'i sQS of trie twelve 
, soosties. ' Meinlk cites. "But the real 
treasure me ooffo finding thai came out 
o- this, is the discovery of a thirteenth 
apostle His name was Sing " 

■ ecu ivi ■ ■ 

senptums Bmg was dis.lked bv She erne' 

us lack oifaih and his hat: - 
el dues! onng such common religious 
pras tii .■ it ihi :.. 'as lasting and omym 
There Is in me scroll a record ot a letter 
he wrote io Sirron proposing that they try 
something dirtessn! at m-iglous feasts.- 

(or salmsi. Simon Peter, ■mown :"or his 
lendnc-ss for party games, liked tne idea 
but when it was brought up at the 
second -to-last supper it was votec down 
by the other n 

'-Ifmy translator? go: ims right.'" Meinlk 
savs, "the ether apostles the" 1 chastised 
Bing They Tiled his pockets wisn rocks and 
subjected h=m to repeated baptisms, in' ' 
she River Jordan." 

Discouraged and soggy, Bmg resigned; ■ 
as an apos'le and dropped out of sight. 
rvlemik says the scroll doesn : set what 
nappc-ner; to Bmg next. He ;;■ -e. t.ooeri 
oniv one more time in ihe i.imdi: iesm- 
rnent scroll. I: does Describe new ne was 
exonerated and gamed a measure : ■ 
redempt on. 

Alter ins departure ihe apostles 
going through n s possessions, discovered 
a game he nad invented. Insnguoc: bv 
their discovery, they began to o-ay mo 
.,,.., .,... ig ■■ ill. ■:,, ■ ton: ' and sous'- 
i r cos. ■ i i ■ ("■''■■■ par. ■!■■ ei i I ■■-■> : 
a game thai was le bear rns name, and Io: 
centuries to come it would be used to 
tinanoe church activities. The game, el 
■course, was Plngo Because of that 
discovery. K is rumored mat the Poos s 
considering canonizing Bind the patron 
saint ot has Vegas Nights. 

i! ■■■ .■ be ^c ■■,'■;< ki i,*. 

otfier secrets an.:; coniained in tne *-.' .: ::e 
Testamiens. Meimk does not plan :■: 
■ publish ;he scroll's contents hu' r -5 ! . ; "-f :: 
make then: 

f. „;,i le :. u .i ■ :rtam ■■■ io! y i '■'■ 
reaizeiiis dream. He nas optionee :'-: 
scroll, however and has nireo a tec- f 
writers to develop it into a minise-e: ~: 
maybe, a sitcom.'; he says. "I'm discos = -g 
toe concept with my wrisers now ' 

Melnir. ^s being very secesive an :-. 
she soec.iicsol his plans, but ii .s kno- - 
:■, I, ho i'.v- i .will no da ci o : 

n Christ and 'I"-:- 
apostles. Some oi the names that -;v-o 
been suggested Inoiuee '/Vc-V- .■ : - - '■' 
HE's:he'So^. and The Bible S-y.:- 

Ho matter what form Melmk's p'og-a-- 
ijiliir'ately takes snore's no quest'Oi- :-*■ 
she Middle Testament remans one "' t-e 
most exciting archaeologies: m to - 
years, nvaied only ov the Oisoc.^ . t"" ; t 
tabled tost Honey-mo oners oc-s :■:.-:-■ ■ 
JacKie Geascn's basemer:; CXD